


194/10/1, 19/7/10, 146/13/3.

by cruciomysoul



Category: DC Animated Universe, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: AU, Birdflash - Freeform, Bookshop, Christmas, Dash and Lily's Book of Dares, Detective Work, Developing Relationship, F/F, F/M, Jaytim - Freeform, M/M, Pop Culture, Sharks, Sibling Rivalry, Waterstones, mentions of drug abuse, page/word/line
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-01-01 23:57:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 50,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruciomysoul/pseuds/cruciomysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>{Bookshop AU}</b> Jason purposely leaves a small leather bound notebook nestled on one of the shelves inside his favourite book store, in the hopes that a delightful patron will pick it up and follow the instructions inside. He doesn't expect to get much out of it beside the satisfaction of meeting a new friend in the weirdest possible way, but when said patron - Tim, apparently - picks it up and decides to leave Jason a challenge of his own, well, Jason's never been one to back down from a challenge.</p><p>{Also available in 中文, thanks to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/blurryyou/pseuds/blurryyou"> blurryyou!!!!</a>}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Encounter

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [194/10/1, 19/7/10, 146/13/3.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5645317) by [blurryyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurryyou/pseuds/blurryyou)



> I just started reading Dash and Lily's Book of Dares and I positively fell in love with the idea- so here, have the beginning of this JayTim AU!

Frosted air blew from Jason's nostrils, prompting him to rub his gloved hands together. The bag slung over his shoulder knocked against the back of his legs with every step - the strap was too long, but it had been that way for almost three years now, he couldn't bring himself to break the tradition, 'cause he was just that kind of guy - and it made his walk slow, as he didn't quite fancy tripping and slamming head first into the concrete, no thank you. His pretty face would not become marred today, no sir it would not.

He wasn't too far from his favourite bookshop, now. Ahead, he could see the simplistic black and gold sign - Waterstones, by the way, was the name of the shop, and Jason  _adored_  it. From everything to the (admittedly not his cup of tea, unless in dire emergencies) cafe on the second floor, to the travelling and tourism section on the fifth, the glass elevator that Jason was actually too afraid to take because, uh, small enclosed space, not exactly his thing- and the bags! The bags were absolutely fantastic. They were all the same colour, an off white, and the text was always black- even in the holiday season.

The thing that got him, about the bags, though, were the quotes. They would always have some quote printed on them, and if Jason wasn't already in love with the store, then just by laying eyes on those bags he would be.

His favourite would have to be 'A good book will keep you fascinated for days. A good bookshop for your whole life.' As it was, in all its entirety, true. Waterstones was magnificent, and he was certain he'd feel that way about it for the rest of his life. Even when the Kindles eventually take over and dominate the printed word, he would still love this bookshop.

It reminded him of that fishing quote - 'Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime.' It had the same meaning.

Walking inside the place caused a sense of familiarity to wash over him, and, had he been the sentient type, he may have stopped and sniffed in a deep breath that was coated with the smell of fresh spice wafting down the stairs, the smell of books old and new resting on the shelves. But alas, Jason wasn't that type of guy; so he soldiered on through the store, heading directly to the counter.

His almost life-long friend Roy Harper was manning the till, and he immediately glared when Jason approached.

"No." Upon hearing the dead end statement from Roy's mouth, Jason threw his hands up into the air in exasperation.

"I didn't even open my mouth!" He exclaimed, hands still semi poised.

"You were going to ask about that stupid book idea again."

Jason opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again before responding, "Yeah, okay, I totally was."

"No." Roy repeated, with a little more force.

"Come on, Speedy!" Jason begged, even throwing in his cute little pet name for the ex-druggie. He thumped his hands down onto the counter, fingers splayed. "This could be my one chance at finding true love!" Roy just stared.

"Books." He stated eventually, "Books are your true love."

"Can I make out with books? Can I fondle a book? Cuddle and watch Breaking Bad with a book?"

"You could certainly try." Roy pointed out, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Jason waved his hand, as if to say 'Been there, done that. Didn't work out.' Roy actually grimaced.

" _Please._ " Jason tried, and this time Roy sighed, giving his head a scratch.

"Fine." He consented, squirming as Jason tried to give him a massive bear hug despite the rectangular counter blocking their way. "Now go, plant your book before Kory has you done for loitering." Jason laughed, calling a 'thanks' before heading to the back of the store.

Modern and Classical Literature.

Possibly his favourite section- if not, then it was definitely one of them. Just like the Thriller section was, the Young Adult section was, the Sci-Fi section was, etcetera etcetera.

Pulling the small, red leather bound notebook out of his backpack, Jason had two options about where to place this book.

Idly tapping his finger against the cover, he considered both of those options.

He could put it beside Bram Stoker's ' _Dracula_ ', a sure fire way to attract teenage girls who had been spurred on by the atrociousness that was Twilight and all its sequels and spin-offs. Or beside Mary Shelley's  _The Modern Prometheus_ \- either one was likely to attract teenage girls into the freak genre.

That wasn't exactly what Jason was looking for - girls, sure, yeah, why not. But freaks? Not the thing he had in mind.

The second option was to put it near something more modern, like the culture changing  _Catch-22_  or the  _Catcher in the Rye_ , which Jason did not initially like- he couldn't ever tell you why, there was just something about the book he found disdainful.

Or, thinking about it, he could do a third option: close his eyes, spin around several times both clockwise and anti clockwise to distort his sense of direction, and then thrust the book forward. He would then open his eyes, and whatever shelf the book was pointed at, he would put it inside.

Right then, the third option seemed most favourable. So that was what he did.

When he was extremely dizzy, and thoroughly confused in regards to which bearing he was facing, Jason extended his arms. Opening his eyes, he couldn't say he was disappointed. The book directly in front of his own leather notebook was, in fact,  _To Kill a Mockingbird_  by Harper Lee - an all time favourite for Jason, if only for the character Dolphus Raymond.

The book slotted in nicely, creating a deep contrast between the black of  _Mockingbird_  and the red of his own creation. There. Not even a blind person could miss that. Grinning in anticipation, Jason turned heel and left the shop, calling out a goodbye to both of the redheads working.

Being December 1st, the Christmas holiday was well and truly under way. The number of shoppers milling about had considerably multiplied since this morning, but the air remained colder still. Ducking his chin into the top of his jacket zip, Jason began skirting his way through the crowd.

Busy bodies rifled all around him, occasionally bumping shoulders with and generally not paying attention. It kind of irked Jason that people could be so disrespectful - but the holiday was a hectic time of year. He could forgive them, just this once.

His mind exploration of the manners of strangers, however, did unfortunately cause him to bypass his own, his shoulder knocking rather forcefully into another shoulder - belonging to a guy who had been reading whilst walking. Jason  _knew_  how much skill that required to successfully pull off; kudos to him, man.

"Sorry!" He got out hastily, scrambling to catch the boy's book before it fell to the floor and was trampled on by the mass crowd. "Here," Jason breathed, handing the book back. The other guy mouthed a silent 'Thank you', tucking the book under his arm and continuing to weave a path through the crowds - he was also sporting headphones, Jason noticed. The kid has skill.

Shaking his head to clear it of headphone wearing boys reading (one of) his favourite books, Jason heaved through the crowd and ducked into a little family owned cafe that made  _the best_ peppermint hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream, caramel sauce and sprinkles. Jason  _loved_  those - and the best part? They were available all year round!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was sat on my bed surrounded by Waterstones bags whilst writing this, I must have looked really weird aha


	2. The Chase Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Uh, no. It's-, er, it's for... Dick." Crap, Tim had kind of maybe forgotten he was a pretty terrible liar.
> 
> "Your brother?" She inquired, checking it was the same Dick they were talking about. "I thought he was dating Wally, like, for the past six years."
> 
> Tim nodded, because, yeah, Wally and Dick had been together that long. They were practically married. "Well," He huffed out his cheeks, releasing air slowly. "You can never know too much about gay sex, apparently."

 

After the small incident where his book was almost ripped apart by the feral crowds, Tim forgot all about it and the dull black haired boy with white streak responsible. It just completely wiped from his mind, the brain in there dictating that it wasn't worth remembering.

Inside, he headed straight to the back of the shop to look for  _The Great Gatsby_ , finding it rather easily.

His eyes caught on the sight of a book that didn't quite look as though it belonged, and it intrigued him endlessly. But that was not the reason he had come here. He came for  _Gatsby_  and general perusing of the shelves. Nothing more, nothing less.

He was curious about the little red notebook, though, and he thought of picking it up more than once, but his fingers never got further than hovering just over the nameless spine.

He left the bookshop soon after, purchases placed neatly inside his shoulder bag.

* * *

A week later, Tim once again found himself in the book shop. He needed some new text books, and so headed to the third floor to retrieve them. They weren't particularly interesting books, just ones to help him with his essay structuring and the evaluation stage of sources in his History work. If he could get by fine without them, he would.

He wouldn't be able to explain it if you asked, but something drew him back to the Classic and Modern Literature section. (If he thought hard about it, or even not that hard at all, he'd realise that it was, in fact, his curiosity simply goading him, tempting him to take a bite of that red leather.)

The leather bound notebook was still there, nestled in between two copies of  _To Kill a Mockingbird._  It didn't seem as though anybody had touched it. Sighing, because really, what was Tim even doing? He looked around as covertly as possible before reaching up, and to prevent him from stalling, simply grabbed the book by its top corner and yanked it down. Thankfully, no other books fell with it.

Tim turned the book over in his hands, and then over again. It was just a normal, red clad notebook. It wasn't some rare special edition that had somehow wriggled its way on to the shelf- no, this belonged to somebody.

And Tim was a little curious as to whom.

He opened the book up to the first page, and found a little note in neat, cursive writing.

 

 

>  
> 
> _Howdy there, my budding literature God(des)._
> 
> _A little birdy tells me you like books. If yes, and you'd like to challenge yourself to some detective work, then please turn the page._
> 
> _If not, kindly return the book to where you found it._

Tim furrowed his brow in confusion, but nonetheless turned the page. Yes, he liked books- and he was pretty good at solving crimes, too. (One of the many, many reasons his best friend refused to watch police dramas with him- or any kind of drama, actually. Steph and Tim weren't actually into that sort of thing, so Tim doesn't even know why he just brought it up.)

He turned the page, and found another note, followed by a set of numbers. It took him an embarrassing length of time to figure out what the numbers meant (Page/Line/Word), and so Tim blamed it on the bizarreness of the entire situation.

 

 

>  
> 
> _Hello, again._
> 
> _Let's first visit the children's section, because there is always at least five copies of every single book there. Gotta make the first one a little easy, right?_
> 
>   
> _(I suggest you get a pen and a piece of scrap paper -_ **DO NOT WRITE IN THIS BOOK!!** _and write down the words you find.)_

Tim didn't have a pen or notebook, so he whipped out his phone and opened up a blank note page in there.

 

 

>  
> 
> _Bad Girls - Jacqueline Wilson_
> 
> _94/11/2 - 41/10/1 - 158/9/6_
> 
> _Good ol' Jackie, aye?_

Tim looked at the three words he had typed out:  _I want to._

...Want to what? Tim assumed that in order to find out, he had to turn over the page. So that's exactly what he did.

 

 

>  
> 
> _And now we go to the Gothic section, my good chum. Fourth floor, third shelf from the top, section A-G._
> 
> _This book is the haunting tale of days old, Christmases past... Ghouls and ghosts galore._
> 
> _22/10/2* - 15/9/5_
> 
> _*This word contains four extra letters. Please remove them._

If asked, Tim would not be able to explain how he got to the fourth floor so fast. He had never been one for sports, and he's pretty sure his third year P.E teacher would have a seizure at the sight of Tim's legs moving so fast. It was a miracle; a Christmas miracle.

A-G was a very large section, and Tim was not that familiar with it. He only knew, really, one Gothic book - The Woman in Black. On a whim, he goes for that choice.

 

 

>  
> 
> _If you went to A Christmas Carol and found the words 'fond(ling) desire' know that you have made a wrong turn somewhere, and I must sincerely ask that you place this book back where you found it. My deepest apologies go out to you, as I am sure you were looking forward to following this yellow brick road to glory even further._
> 
> _However, if you found Susan Hill's delightful Ode to Blacketh Woman, turn over this page, dear reader chum!_

What a stroke of luck his whim turned out to be! He now had a semi-constructed sentence:  _I want to play a_

Tim didn't know if this guy's attitude was foolish sincerity, or the wittiest sarcasm he had ever experienced. He couldn't doubt the genuineness of the passion, though; this guy clearly loved and knew his stuff.

 

 

>  
> 
> _One last word for this, now._
> 
> _Entangled._
> 
> _89/17/6_

Tim found himself letting out a gasp as he realised that 'Entangled' was the only clue he was receiving. It frustrated him to no end - he didn't even have a genre! What was he supposed to do, search the entire store with a knit comb?!

He was just about to start doing so, after checking out all of the books in the Gothic section for anything called Entangled, and after coming up annoyingly empty, realised there was one very easy method for finding this book: Ask at reception.

Tim back tracked his steps back down to the ground floor and to the counter, sans purchasing material, and approached the redhead there. "Hi," He began, a little nervous. He had no idea what the book he was asking for was about, after all. "I'm looking for a book called Entangled, could you help?"

The man, Roy, threw him a withered glance and then pointedly looked at the red book clutched in Tim's hands. "No."

Tim blinked, reeling back in surprise at the rude and blunt tone. "Excuse me?" He asked.

"Can't tell you where it is." Roy briefly explained, giving another look to the journal in his hands. Tim raised an eyebrow, thinking that whoever had orchestrated this plan had done it extremely well, cutting off all loop holes.

"Ah. Uh- can you tell me the author, then?" Tim asked, tone getting a little less polite than it had previously been.

"Nope." Roy smacked his 'P', and Tim growled in frustration.

"You are an ass." Tim snarled, glaring a little. He wasn't even trying any more.

"Yeah," Roy shrugged it off, all nonchalant. "I know." Tim gave up, then, storming back up the stairs to the second floor.

On the other side to the cafe, was the Young Adult section.

_Perhaps..._  Tim thought about it.  _Entangled..._ It sounded a little teen-ish? He remembered that one book Steph had been reading -  _Fallen_ , he thought it was called. And then there was that other book -  _Hush, hush._ They were similar names... right?

Deciding that he'd have to start looking for it either way if he really wanted to figure this puzzle out, Tim began looking for it in the YA section.

And then almost whooped in delight when, alas, he found it! He actually found it; by the Gods, today was his lucky day!

"What page was it again?" He muttered, flipping open the notebook again to look. "Ah." He flipped to the corresponding page. 

Game.

 

 

>  
> 
> _Constructed the sentence yet?_

Tim had indeed - (like he hadn't seen it coming). 

_I want to play a game._

 

 

>  
> 
> _If you understood the reference of said sentence, turn over the page._
> 
> _If not, please return this book to its shelf._

Tim almost snorted; it was like the guy was trying to filter down the results. Oh, and it was definitely a guy - Tim could tell by the handwriting.

Once again, Tim turned over the page.

 

 

>  
> 
> _I'm glad you've made it this far._
> 
> _The Ins and Outs of Gay, Lesbian and Bi. (I don't have to tell you which section that is in, do I? If you really cannot figure it out, you really should not be participating in this.)_
> 
> _72/16/9 - 93/1/7 - 108/20/9_

Tim headed to the Sex and Sexuality section of the store, right near the Manga section. It wasn't difficult to find the book, despite not knowing the author. (Shockingly, not even the book had the author's name on) He wrote down the phrase he had so far:  _Will this curiosity_

And then turned the page.

 

 

>  
> 
> _Since we're on the topic of Gays, Lesbians and Bi, I'm going to have to ask- are you lesbian?_
> 
> _If not, continue and turn over the page._
> 
> _If yes, you are in fact a lesbian, please know that that is totally fine and I respect your choices in life, Tipping the Velvet is one of my favourite books, but I regret to inform you that our thrilling journey has come to an end. I am going to have to request that you please put this book back where you found it._

Tim turned the page, and was about to continue on reading when the sound of his name being called summoned him.

"Tim?" The voice was a little timid, as if the girl was a little surprised to find Tim there. Still, he recognised it as Steph straight away. He turned to grin at his best friend, only to let his face fall when he noticed the deeply confused look adorning her face. He followed her line of sight, to the closed book in his hands.

"Ah." He said, preparing for the onslaught of questions that would inevitably come. Still, he tried to explain his way out of it. "This isn't for me." Steph raised an eyebrow,

"Oh?" She questioned, voice disbelieving. Tim cleared his throat,

"Uh, no. It's-, er, it's for... Dick." Crap, Tim had kind of maybe forgotten he was a pretty terrible liar.

"Your brother?" She inquired, checking it was the same Dick they were talking about. "I thought he was dating Wally, like, for the past six years."

Tim nodded, because, yeah, Wally and Dick had been together that long. They were practically married. "Well," He huffed out his cheeks, releasing air slowly. "You can never know too much about gay sex, apparently."

Neither of them had anything else to say about that, and Tim could see his lie dissolving in Steph's eyes. There was no way she believed him, and Tim felt a little sick. The silence played out between them, lasting for almost a whole minute until Steph could take no more.

"Okay," She drawled out, "Well, I should get going. Studying and all that. Good luck, er, with that. Your problem. Say hi to Dick for me!" She paraded out the store, taking her own lie with her.

Steph didn't have any studying to do, and even if she did, she wouldn't do it. Tim sighed, mentally cursing the leather book in his hands.

He went straight back to reading it, though, after replacing  _The Ins and Outs of Gay, Lesbian and Bi._  He didn't quite fancy another experience like that.

 

 

>  
> 
>  
> 
> _The fact that you were willing to read through that book for this is magnificent. Now, quick question:_
> 
> _Are you male and straight? If yes, please do what the lesbians have done and return this book._
> 
> _If not, please continue onward!_

Tim was almost physically itching, now. The temptation to cheat and skip ahead to the end was almost overwhelming, but much like with every good book Tim found, he ignored the urge as best he could and soldiered on at a steady pace that didn't seem too eager or disinterested.

 

 

>  
> 
>  
> 
> _I love comedians, you know? I think they're great. A particular favourite of mine is Miranda Hart._
> 
> _86/17/8 - 153/2/4_

Tim tapped down the two words this new book had given him,  _Entice you,_ before turning over the page.

 

 

 

> _We're sticking with the comedians for these last three words, kid!_

>  
> 
> _The Life of Lee_

>  
> 
> _6/22/9 - 73/31/9 - 70/10/3_

Tim looked at the text on his screen.

_Will this curiosity entice you or kill you?_

He couldn't deny that it was enticing, extremely so. Tim wanted to explore this guy that left behind this (rather enjoyable) puzzle, wanted to thank him for the surprisingly enjoyable evening.

He supposed in answer to the question- the curiosity was doing both. The knowledge of not knowing was killing him, and at the same time it was enticing him, because he wanted to  _know._

Tim felt very, very much like the cat.

For the last time, Tim turned over the page.

 

 

>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Are you going to continue playing? it's entirely up to you._
> 
> _If you'd like to play again sometime, choose a book - any book in this entire store, and leave a slip of paper in it with your email address on. Hand it to Roy at the counter._
> 
> _If you ask Roy any questions about this, me, or tell him any facts about you- he will not pass on your book. Tread carefully, wallflower._
> 
> _I will be in touch,_
> 
> _Jason._
> 
> _PS - Once you've done all of this, and I applaud you tremendously for it, please return this book to where you found it. Thank you._

Tim looked down at the paper again, re-reading the note. Did he want to continue playing? ... Yes, he supposed he did. Choosing a random book off the shelf - he didn't pay any particular attention to which, he ripped out a page from his revision diary and jotted down something that was not his email address.

If Jason could have fun with Tim like this, then Tim could also have fun with Jason like this. The world was a two-way street, after all.

With a smile, he handed the book to red headed Roy at the till, with the slip of paper sticking out of the top. Roy seemed to understand what it meant, as he nodded and placed the book inside the draw.

Tim wondered how many other people has pursued this quest of Jason's, and then decided, rather impulsively- that no one else would. Instead of returning the book to its shelf, he shoved that too inside his bag.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, this turned out way way longer than planned! oh, honey drops.
> 
> Also, absolutely no idea if The Ins and Outs of Gay, Lesbian and Bi is actually a real book or not - if anyone does know, don't hesitate to tell me :')


	3. Vengeance in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason had spent hours in the mirror practising his poker face every week for this exact reason. This was it, he was going to lie to Rose Wilson. Daughter of the country's most glorified war veteran. Girlfriend of Artemis Crock, the city's most notorious martial arts teacher. And he was going to pull it off successfully.

 

Jason was polishing the engine of his bike when his phone went off, the alarm that was specific to Roy's texts blaring. Wiping his hands off on the overalls he had on, he unlocked his phone and viewed the text-

And almost collapsed from excitement, his fingers and body trembling as his stomach cramped up from joyous laughter.

> _You actually got a taker, asshole._

Jason text back immediately;  _You're kidding?!_  He was still grinning.

> _Nope. Left it in the drawer- clocking out now. Told Rose, see ya later Jay._

Jason cringed a little at the thought of Rose knowing - but, then again, she  _had_  met her girlfriend on the internet. And meeting someone on the internet was wayyyyyy more dangerous than this, right? Right?  _Right,_  Jason told himself.

Not even bothering to change his clothes - it was dark, cold, no one was going to be out this late, Jason grabbed his jacket, some gloves and his hat before heading back to Waterstones. If he was entirely honest with himself, he hadn't expected a response at all, let alone one so soon. He was excited.

"Hello, Mr. Todd!" Rose called out, upon his entering of the store. There were only a couple minutes left until closing now, and with transactions no longer being accepted and the cafe upstairs long ago shut, all of the patrons had left the store. It was just Rose and Jason now.

"My dearest Rose," Jason swooned, clasping his hands together as he leant on the counter she was stationed behind. "A little guy named Speedy tells me you have a book reserved for me~" His voice took on a sort of sing-song at the end, and Jason was incredibly relieved it didn't crack.  _That_  would have been embarrassing.

"I  _miiiiight._ " Rose played along, leaning toward him. Jason mirrored her movements, until their noses were almost touching. "It's gonna cost ya," She whispered, and Jason chuckled, low and throaty.

"Don't I know it." He said, equally quiet. "How about," His whisper turned conspiratorial, eyes sly "I bring you and Arty a complimentary pizza every night for the next week."

Rose slanted one curved eyebrow, bringing her hand up to rest under her chin. "Double pepperoni?" She questioned, sounding almost completely convinced.

Jason winked, "Our secret." he declared, tapping her on the nose. Rose laughed then, shrill and loud, snapping the two out of whatever atmosphere they had managed to create.

"Here," She said, slapping the book down. Jason picked it up, not bothering to look at the cover. "By the way," she mused, a bemused smile littering her face, "We managed to sell nine copies of Tipping The Velvet this week- anything to do with you?"

Jason had spent hours in the mirror practising his poker face every week for this exact reason. This was it, he was going to lie to Rose Wilson. Daughter of the country's most glorified war veteran. Girlfriend of Artemis Crock, the city's most notorious martial arts teacher. And he was going to pull it off successfully.

Poker face on, Jason shook his head slowly, letting a 'no' fall from his lips. Rose narrowed her eyes at him, but otherwise said or did nothing to call out his bluff. That was it. He had lied to Rose, and been believed. Fate really was in his hands today, by the Gods! Now he figured he should probably get out of there before she began to suspect something was up; he wasn't exactly sure how long his poke face could and would last. Probably not that long, if he was entirely honest.

"Thanks," He said again, leaning over the counter to kiss the white haired girl on the cheek. She smiled in response, before turning away and plugging in the ear buds from her MP3.

"Have a nice night," She called as he left the shop, and Jason lifted the back of his hand and waved it at her, acknowledging her sentiment, and returning it as best he could non-verbally.

He barely managed to restrain himself from opening the book until he got home. Alas, he did, and soon (much sooner than he had ever gotten home, actually, all those dates that thought he had stood them up because of his timing would have been proud, damn proud of Jason's speed. And a little envious they weren't that speedy for them, too.) soon, found himself sat on one of the chairs in his dining room, the book sat in front of him.

Jason opened the book, a copy of Alexander Dumas's  _The Three Musketeers,_  and plucked out the slip of paper. It had been ripped from a different notebook, the violet lines against the white backdrop completely disregarded by the writing covering the page.

Jason read the instalment, and noted with unanticipated delight, that there was no email address.

> _So, Jason, your little game in the bookshop? Made me feel like a cat. And if I'm the cat... then by default, you're the mouse- right?_

Jason couldn't deny he was a little insulted. He was  _not_  the mouse, mystery converser. He was not.

>   
> _Either way, I actually found it really enjoyable. Consider this me... returning the favour._ _There's a film I want you to check out. Directed by Danny Boyle, stars Obi-Wan..._  
> 

Jason barely held back a snort. He knew where he was headed; there was a DVD and Video rental store just a short walk away from Waterstones. He couldn't remember the store's name, but he had been there on the odd occasion with Roy and that exchange student he got along with- Kaldurm? Maybe, Jason couldn't quite remember. It was foreign- he was tempted to say African, but picturing the kid... Jason's no longer sure where he's from. He's going to have to ask Roy. Again.

Jason knew, that as soon as he woke up in the morning, he'd make a pit stop at the store before he went in to work for the evening. He was glad it was Christmas; his college had broken up ridiculously early for break (he had an entire month off, life at 17 was great.) and not too many people were into to ordering pizzas. He didn't know if it was because pizza wasn't a very festive food, or if they were just being considerate to the delivery boy. Either way, Jason was glad.

He wasn't so glad, however, about how freakin' cold December tended to be. His legs felt numb by the time he reached the outside of his destination, the blue walls faded to an almost dull robin egg. It was a little sickening, and he thought he would be if he were to stand there looking at it for much longer.

When he stepped over the threshold of the door, a bell jingling to announce his presence and a stream of cold air wafting in behind him, Jason realised just how small the store actually was. It was probably around half the size of the first floor of Waterstones. Blinking a little in surprise, because this was decidedly  _not_  how he remembered the place, he headed straight to the 90's section.

He knew which film the note had been on about, of course. Who  _hadn't_  heard of  _Trainspotting_? It was number 10 on the list! His eyes quickly scanned all the racks, but he came up empty. Severely hoping that whoever replied hadn't done the same trickery as him and made the cashier refuse to help, he wandered over.

A girl, no more than fifteen, with shoulder length black hair that hung in a straight fashion, looked up from what she was reading when he approached. She didn't say anything, not even a "Can I help you, sir?" instead, just staring, awaiting on Jason to make the first move.

"Where can I find  _Trainspotting?_  Danny Boyle, Ewan McGregor..."

"Checked out." She responded promptly, not blinking or even checking the records on the computer.

"You don't have a second copy?" The girl shrugged - Cass, was the name pinned to her yellow shirt.

"It's probably checked out too. It's a popular film." Yeah, Jason knew that. Something died a little inside of him, at the thought of his trail of breadcrumbs coming to an abrupt end. Jason thought he saw something soften in her features, but it was gone in an instant.

"Try one year later." Jason waited for the girl to elaborate, but she only went back to reading the book. It was in a foreign language, so Jason had no hopes of trying to figure out which book it was. He huffed his cheeks, blowing out the air slowly and slapped the counter once with his palm before returning to the section.

He searched the entire section for anything remotely related to the phrase 'one year later' and came excruciatingly empty. There was no film called One Year Later here! He was about to march back and call for help, when he spotted Ewan's name on the spine of a case. His search couldn't really get any worse, so he pulled out the case. Lo and behold- the director was Danny Boyle. Jason felt a little miffed, never before had he even heard of this film,  _A Life Less Ordinary._

Opening the case, in the place reserved for discs was a sticky note. He pulled it off, shutting the DVD case and slotting it back into place.

> _I bet you went to Train Spotting first, right? Everyone seems to forget they did two more together in the nineties, Shallow Grave and A Life Less Ordinary - they're hardly ever checked out of the store._

Jason nodded in approval- this person knew their stuff. Or they just idolised either Ewan McGregor or Danny Boyle really, really hard- but as long as it wasn't life threatening, Jason supposed he didn't mind.

>   
>  _You should have heard the Hamelin people,_   
>  _ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple._   
> 

...What? Jason frowned, read the note again, and frowned some more. What Hamelin people? Hamelin wasn't even a place- "Hey," He called out, looking at Cass. She didn't respond verbally, but Jason could tell she had heard and was listening. "Where's Hamelin?"

"Germany." She diverted her eyes back to her book, adding: "Famous for rats." Well, that was helpful. Jason sighed, studying the note once more. He decided he liked this handwriting; it was a little scruffy but it was legible. It was a nice sight, like whoever had wrote this had been carving into wood.

None of those thoughts answered his riddle, though. Just what was so famous about Hamelin, its people, their rat infestation, and their steeple- oh.  _Oh. OH!_

The Pied Piper was from Hamelin. The Piper lured rats away from Hamelin. The Piper did not receive his payment. The Piper grew angry. The Piper, in the dead of night, lured children - little boys and little girls, with rosy cheeks and flaxen curls - out of their beds with the chime of three sweet notes.

The Pied Piper of Hamelin. 1957, musical. Jason had watched it once in his youth, at the request of his mother. He had never before in his life felt the need to thank her so much. It didn't take long to find the film, and Jason had never realised just how cringe worthy the front cover actually was. He couldn't believe he had ever been into this film.

> _You're either here because you had to research any new media to do with The Pied Piper that wasn't to do with comics, or you are actually a fan of potential paedophiles who lure children away in the dead of night to caves or rivers. If the latter, that's pretty creepy, but I respect that you are into The Brother's Grimm fairy tales.*_

Jason wasn't that into them, but he had read quite a few. He guessed some would call it a morbid curiosity, and it kind of was. The Pied Piper was just one of those historical figures that intrigued a little part in everyone - was the creator of the character being symbolic? Was the origin something much, much more sinister- like the children's nursery rhyme  _London Bridge_  or  _Ring o' Ring o' Roses._

> _I'm guessing you want your notebook back- it's really nice, by the way. Leave instructions with a movie of you choice with Cass at the desk- just, please, nothing autobiographical. I don't care if you really like comedians._
> 
> _*If you're not into The Brother's Grimm and are, in fact, a paedophile, feel free to not leave a film._

So his taker wasn't a fan of comedians, then. Such a shame. Or paedophiles, which Jason understood completely and was also pretty sure he wasn't one of those. Jason guessed he had no choice but to leave a film, then!

"Sorry to bother you again," Jason said, smiling, "But can I leave something with you for someone?" Cass nodded - Jason had already grown accustomed to her silence. It was almost calming, in a way. "Great!" He grinned, "Now, do you have the film  _Lenny?_ " He asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if any of you have heard of Lenny Bruce - but Lenny is his autobiographical film. Oh, Jason, you naughty boy.  
> And you may even be getting two chapters today! No promises, though.


	4. Bull Clad in Tinsel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim could have groaned. In fact, he did groan. That was so unoriginal, and just when his hopes for his new found friend were just getting high. Tim was being sent on an errand into the Apple store. Or, as Dick preferred to call it, the 'glorious platoon of humanity's next step'. Theatrical, Tim was aware.

 

Cass was being a total bitch to Tim. He didn't even know why, but assumed it may have had something to do with him not wanting to spend the run up to Christmas with her and their family. She easily allowed Jason to leave his instructions with her- but refused to relay them to Tim, lest he sit through the whole of Lenny with her.

Tim did not like comedians. Tim didn't really like autobiographies that much, either, because they were rarely factual. Give him a text book over a biased memoir any day, and he'd be your man for life. Or gay best friend, if your name just so happened to be Stephanie Brown.

After 111 minutes of, in Tim's opinion, complete purgatory, the film finally ended- Lenny had died of a morphine overdose. How incredibly unpredictable that was, and how utterly infuriating Jason and Cass were trying to be.

"I'm going to be there on Christmas Eve, right up until New Year's!" Tim had tried, grasping at almost literal straws in an attempt to get Cass to relent and just let him have Jason's note. She hadn't relented at all.

Tim finally got his hands on the case, ergo Jason's note, when the credits started rolling. Cass passed it over and left without a word, leaving Tim to turn the TV off. She left his apartment straight away, clearly in a hurry. He wondered if Barbara had scheduled another lesson- Barbara, or Babs as she was known to their family, was Cass's teacher. Cass didn't like school, flat out refused to go, so Babs had taken her under wing of tutelage.

This note was written on paper almost identical to the sheets found inside the notebook. Tim figured Jason had more than one of these babies lying around.

> _Mice go squeak, right? I can't remember. Help me find out, would you? There's a nice white one called Pinky- I think he had a friend, too, Brain perhaps..._

Pinky and the Brain. Quite possibly the most underrated children's television show of Tim's time, the cartoon rarely being aired and appreciated these days. And how did these four sentences tell Tim where he was headed? Well, there was only one place that had an entire store dedicated to children's entertainment. And that was in the Bull Ring.

The Bull Ring was both one of Tim's favourite and least favourite places. There were plenty of (good quality) shops for him to get everything he needed, and he loved that. But they were crowded, the empty times only being either really early (when only a handful of shops were open) or really late, when nothing was open. It was mid morning now, and Tim sincerely hoped that it wouldn't be too busy.

Of course, this was Christmas time. It was always busy, and Tim knew instantly from the moment he stepped off the train that this was apparently a bad idea. It seemed to be even busier from when he first found that damned notebook back on December first. It was now the tenth, and everybody seemed in a rush to get the last of their presents.

Tim was glad he wasn't actually here to do any shopping, having already ordered his present for everyone offline. Most had arrived, he was just waiting on a couple of packages from Australia now, but he was fairly confident that they would arrive with plenty of time to spare.

He had to pass both the DVD and Video rental store and Waterstones to get to one of the entrances to the Bull Ring. Outside, though, it amused Tim greatly that someone had taken to the liberty of really getting into the festive season. To make the bronze bull statue fit in with the rest of the Christmas decorations (lights, trees littered around with ornaments and baubles attached), someone had stuck a hat on top of it, along with reindeer antlers, some tinsel and a couple of bells to the horns.

Children were playing on it, having their pictures taken with it. It wasn't just children, either; foreign tourists were also taking part in the joyous holiday by coating the bull in their spirit.

Shaking his head, smile on his face, Tim finally made it inside the building, and immediately headed for the escalator to go down to the second floor. Walking into the shop, he had to dodge rampant kids with their toy planes and pretend guns, almost getting shot by invisible bullets every now and then. He played along though, dutifully falling down and limping with exaggerated pain. It kept the kids entertained, and made him look not as weird being a teenager and going into a children's store. It was like he was shopping for his little brother.

He found the stuffed toys section easily enough, where, coincidentally (he thought not) there was a display promoting stuffed animals. They didn't look exactly like the mice from Pinky & the Brain, but they were close enough. There were several other animals; tigers, zebras, monkeys...  _bats._  He was sorely tempted to purchase one of those, give Damian an extra gift this year... But, alas, he refrained. Barely.

(That was actually a bare faced lie. Tim didn't refrain at all, and bought the stuffed bat for Damian. He knew he'd regret it, but the opportunity was too great to pass up).

He found his note pinned to the shelf, just below the price tab.

> _Apl.de.ap the original_

Tim could have groaned. In fact, he did groan. That was  _so_  unoriginal, and just when his hopes for his new found friend were just getting high. Tim was being sent on an errand into the Apple store. Or, as Dick preferred to call it, the 'glorious platoon of humanity's next step'. Theatrical, Tim was aware.

He sighed, left the store - dodging bullets and ray guns galore - and headed up two escalators to the third floor. The Apple store was near the exit on the third floor and, as per usual, filled to the brim with customers- not that many were buying, people just went there to try out all the different products. (Admittedly, so did he sometimes, but that wasn't the point. The point was that they were in the way.)

With almost 50 different products in the store, Tim was extremely glad the note had given him a hint. 'Apl.de.ap the  _original_.' The original Apple products were mostly iPods. And since there weren't any of the original ones left in the store (or indeed, in any other store), then by default, Tim had to go to the newest 5th Gen iPod.

The wait for it was exceedingly boring, though, with Tim having to pretend to explore all the different products before he could go in and search through them, Eventually, a space did open up- and Tim was fast to claim it.

He found the next part of the trail typed onto a virtual sticky notes app, how delightful. Unfortunately, it did mean he couldn't take it with him, lest he wanted to go to jail for attempting to steal an iPod from the Apple store.  _That_  would be a brilliant Christmas story to tell, and Damian would be in stitches for years to come.

> _**Lay your weary head to rest** , don't you cry no more._

Tim was pleased; surely this meant that Jason's music taste was improving. He really hoped so. But his tasks were getting harder. It wasn't that Tim couldn't figure them out - he could, this was like child's play to him, but it was fun, easily the best fun he had in a while - no, it was that the department store in the Bull Ring that sold pillows - Selfridges - was  _fucking huge._

It was just like the _Entangled_  fiasco all over again; Tim would have to literally search every damn pillow in that entire store to find his next God damned note. But he would persevere. He would do this. Taking a deep breath, he entered the domain that could possibly be his undoing. The bedding section of Selfridges. He walked a swift path straight to the first bed, lifting up the pillows in search for Jason's note. Nothing. He tried the next, and the next, and the next-

"Can I help you?" Tim froze, hand clutched around the pillow. One of the store workers whose job it was to be on the shop floor and help patrons should they require assistance was staring at him, rather amusedly.

"Uh..." Tim's mouth began, whilst his brain hurriedly shouted  _No, Tim! Just say no thank you, that's it, don't open your mouth, don't say anything, you're a horrible liar, a terrible one, really really ba-_  "Yeah, sorry. My little brother dropped his, uh, um," Tim blinked, indicating rather grandly to his mouth with his hand, desperately trying to think of the right word. "Pacifier!" He almost screamed, before lowering his voice. "He dropped his pacifier. Mum's got spares with her, but you know how kids are, right?" He tried to joke, and it must have been at least a little convincing, because the guy nodded solemnly. "It was around here somewhere..."

"Alright, alright. Say no more, I've got little brothers of my own. A right pain in the ass, but adorable right?" The guy laughed then, and Tim managed a weak one. A pain in the ass, completely. But adorable? Tim didn't agree with that one in the slightest. Nevertheless, he got back to work, the employee now helping him. "Just make sure you put the pillows back in the correct place." Tim would.

Tim took the beds to the right, and the other guy the ones on the left. It was disgusting the amount of things Tim found under the pillows of beds. Chocolate bar wrappers, stale haribo, moam casing, the works. He's pretty sure there was something not quite dead under that last one- it had felt horribly furry when his knuckle accidentally brushed past it. He didn't do anything though, except grimace and  _almost_  vomit inside his mouth before continuing his search.

After what felt like an infinite amount of pillows, Tim was extremely glad to have stumbled upon the note. Sighing in relief, he scooped it up and pocketed it, placing the pillow back neatly into its correct place.

"I got it!" He called to the guy helping, waving his clenched fist in the air. The guy smiled and promptly re-made the bed he had been ruffling up for Tim. "Thank you so much for your help!"

"You better go disinfect that before you give it back to your brother," The man called back, to which Tim responded with a fervent nod before walking - with a pace that wasn't too quick to be classes as suspicious, he had a little brother to get back to after all, but it was definitely fast - out of the department. 

Seated on one of the benches in the plaza, he took out the note and unfolded it. Tim didn't think he would get over how beautiful Jason's hand writing seemed to be. It was extremely cursive, loops in all the right places, and totally legible. It made his own writing look like seven year old's in comparison, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Jason's could have been beautiful enough for the both of them.

> _I would very much like my notebook back, thank you very much. I have a question for you, though: What is your fondest Christmas memory, and why? (In case you need it in written consent, I am hereby giving you permission to write in the book.)_
> 
> _Please leave it, and your answer, in the stocking bearing my name._

His fondest Christmas memory? That... was surprisingly easy for Tim, actually. He didn't have to think very hard for the particular Christmas to float into his mind, and though he was slightly reluctant to write it down, he could see no harm in it. It's not like he was ashamed, or anything.

Now, he had to plant the book into Jason's stocking- which meant a return trip to Selfridges- but first, he had to go down to the Odeon and purchase a ticket for his pen pal.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes the Bull Ring is real yes there is a Waterstones outside of it yes I shop there quite a lot yes it is essentially the English version of a mall yes there is an apple store no there is not a children's entertainment store. I made that part up. (and there is also a bull statue people can climb)


	5. Ghosts of Christmas Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He bought some popcorn, toffee flavoured, a tango ice blast - mixed berry - and plunked himself down on the floor, back resting against the wall. He'd sat through at least half of the movie, so he figured that was good enough for the Aspiring Detective - that was what Jason had resorted to calling him inside his head. He could now, guiltlessly, open the book and read about his best Christmas.

It felt like a stone hard relief when Jason reached into the red stocking embroidered with his name and pulled out the familiar leather notebook. Despite the relief he felt, he was also a little mournful- did this mean their interaction with each other had come to an end?

Apparently not, however. Sticking out of the top was what looked like a cinema ticket- and it was. For the 1pm showing of  _Elf_. Jason didn't quite understand why that was in the cinema. It came out in 2003. But then again, this  _was_  Christmas time. Many, many redundant Christmas films where shown on Channel 5 every year. Just last weekend had been A Grandpa for Christmas and Lucky Christmas, so it actually wasn't that big of a surprise to find  _Elf_  had been put back on the big screen. As much as he loved Will Farrell, this film had just been repeated too many times over the years for him (or anyone) to find enjoyment in.

Jason had seen in the TV guide that next week would be Clash of the Santas. Mark Benton and Robson Green- Jason actually loved those two, even when they were in the teenage drama Waterloo Road. Which Jason no longer watched. After that move to Scotland, Tom's departure... No, just no. The show had gone severely down hill. It didn't appeal to him any longer, and if asked, it never appealed to him.

There was also a post-it note stuck to the front of the book, requesting several things:

  
**_Do not_ ** _open this book and read the content until you after the movie has finished._   


  
**_Do_ ** _write down your worst Christmas memory._   


  
**_Do not_ ** _leave out any horrific details._   


  
**_Do_ ** _leave this book, with your memory, behind Elf's jolly behind for me to pick up. Thank you._   


Jason could adhere to that ruling. Possibly. If those annoying kids would just  _shut up._

Jason liked kids, he really did. He absolutely adored looking after Roy's little girl Lian whenever the redhead needed a babysitter and could find no one else (Jason didn't know why Roy was so opposed to letting him look after the girl. All they did was eat pizza and play dress up! It  _might_  have had something to do with Jason being good friends with Lian's mother, but that was beside the point.), but Lian was extremely well behaved.  _Especially_ in comparison to the kids in the cinema.

The afternoon was, apparently, the best time to come if you had children. Jason got a little inkling that his partner  _knew_  that, hence the reason for picking this time frame.

When the fifth child knocked over their drink and thenceforth complained (rather loudly, rather nasally, rather annoyingly) about the sticky mess it created, Jason could grit his teeth and bear it no more. He rose from his seat and stalked out the darkened room, re-entering the lobby after a quick bathroom break.

He bought some popcorn, toffee flavoured, a tango ice blast - mixed berry - and plunked himself down on the floor, back resting against the wall. He'd sat through at least half of the movie, so he figured that was good enough for the Aspiring Detective - that was what Jason had resorted to calling him inside his head. He could now, guiltlessly, open the book and read about his best Christmas.

> _My fondest Christmas memory? Probably... 2006. It was the first Christmas I spent with my then foster father and his two sons. Dick, the eldest, was such a great older brother to me. Damian, the youngest... He was a little shit. Hated me from the moment I was introduced._
> 
> _Anyway, I woke up Christmas morning- and it was weird. I still felt like an outsider, even though I'd been with Bruce and his family on and off for two years. I guess it was because it had been ages since I had spent Christmas with someone I considered a father - I'd never had brothers before either, so that feeling was pretty new too. The boys at the orphanage didn't count._
> 
> _We exchanged gifts, even little Damian got me one - I would later find out, however, that he in fact hadn't. He'd been into my room, taken one of my jumpers, and wrapped it up. I didn't even realise until I saw my name already wrote on the label, I was that happy it seemed Damian had finally accepted me. (He still hasn't, by the way, but he has stopped plotting to kill me. I like to consider that a win, at any rate.)_
> 
> _After presents and dinner, Bruce said he had another present for me. Initially, I didn't like that idea. I didn't want to be treated any different to his real sons, given extra gifts because I was an orphan and therefore underprivileged.  
> _
> 
> _I tried to refuse as politely as I could, but in the end even Dick started to goad me into accepting. How could I refuse then? Still feeling guilty, I followed them all to Bruce's study._
> 
> _Bruce is the CEO of a company. He brings a lot of his work home so he can spend as much time as can with his sons, even if it just means them talking to him whilst he looks over and signs paperwork. He sat me down on the chair in front of his desk, and at this point I was extremely anxious, because it reminded me of the time I got called into the head teacher's office- and Dick and Damian were in the room, Dick grinning and Damian scowling. I didn't now if that was a good thing or not; I had absolutely no idea what to expect. Was I in trouble? Bruce rounded the desk and took the chair opposite, and then slid some sheets of paper toward me. I was still really confused- I remember thinking, "What, is he giving me script?" Because that's exactly what it looked like to eight year old me._
> 
>   
> _It wasn't a script, that wasn't the extra gift he had gotten me. They were adoption papers; and all they needed to become finalised were my signature. I was frozen at first, I didn't know what to think or do as the information sunk in. But then it hit me- Bruce wanted to adopt me._ Wanted. _And I was so happy. I'm pretty sure I cried._  
> 
> 
> _It was my fondest Christmas, because it was the Christmas I once again became a part of a loving family. Even if my new little brother despised me._

Jason wasn't ashamed to admit his throat clogged up a little whilst reading that. He couldn't tell, however, whether it was from the guy's sad childhood, or the happy ending he apparently received. Maybe it was a healthy mix of the two.

So now the Aspiring Detective wanted Jason's worst memory? He could deliver that no problem, horrific details included. He began to write, scribbling almost harshly.

> _My worst Christmas was actually the year before your best. 2005, I was 9, and about a month before Christmas, my dearest mother decided to off herself. She was a heroin addict - and I have never touched that stuff, or any other form of drug in my life. I don't even drink alcohol._
> 
> _I don't know whether it was intentional or not, as she would quite often overdose to the point of unconsciousness for days, but... This time was different. She'd OD'ed again, and subsequently died. I didn't even get to say goodbye- I think my last words to her were along the lines of "Aunt Selina let me play with her new kitty today," or something similar. I kind of regret that, but what's done is done. I don't even know if she heard me say it. My last words to her could have been anything, from me begging her to wake up the last time she was out of it, or to me screaming at her for blowing almost all of our money on fuelling her addiction instead of getting help._
> 
> _I wouldn't have minded being dirt poor because my mother was struggling to overcome her addiction. But she wasn't struggling. She wasn't even trying._
> 
> _I didn't feel like slumming it in an orphanage, because, and I'm being entirely honest here, I'm not exactly fostering or adoption material. (Unlike you.) I didn't want to spend the rest of my life in a place like that, so I stayed with my friend Roy until I managed to convince Selina to take me in. It took a whole lot of begging, and a whole load of sweet promises to be on my best behaviour, but eventually she agreed. It was never official or anything, there were no papers, visits from social workers- it was just like life before, except I was living with a different woman. One who didn't take heroin but spent an exceedingly rare amount of time in her house. I was given weekly instalments of cash, and left to basically fend for myself._
> 
> _Selina left completely when I was 14. I don't know where or why, I never bothered to find out. She didn't take any of her cats, though. They're still bunking with me._
> 
> _It was my worst Christmas because it was the first time I realised I was entirely on my own, and that life would only get harder from there on out. It was the worst because the magic and novelty of Christmas had worn off, the naivety of my youth crumpled into dust. Christmas hasn't really been the same since, despite everyone's best efforts. I really appreciate all of it- but you know what, my Aspiring Detective? This year is looking up._
> 
> _Now, don't try to be a smart ass or anything, but what do you want for Christmas? And I don't mean anything generic like 'more books' or 'world peace' or 'end world hunger', because we both know they're pretty impossible._
> 
> _What do you, personally, want? What have you been longing for since you saw it in a shop window, or watched it on TV, or read about it in a magazine, the newspaper, whatever._
> 
> _There's a girl who works part time as a bouncer for a nightclub called 'Vertigo'. She's usually there on Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. Give this, with your answer, to her._
> 
> _I look forward to hearing from you._
> 
> _P.S- What's your name?_

Jason wasn't afraid to admit any of that to the Aspiring Detective. He wasn't afraid of rejection, or rebuttal- but even if he did receive it, (and he severely hoped that he would not), it wouldn't be so bad should it have occurred face to face.

Jason could deal with harsh words or stigma on a piece paper, because that piece of paper could easily be burnt or crumpled or trodden on, whatever. He could erase it with ease, forget about it. He couldn't do that face to face with someone.

Jason thought that was what was making this whole experience so enjoyable to him, so worthwhile. He didn't have to be afraid of seeing a reaction, witnessing the dissipation of an (alleged) 'relationship'.

By the time he set his pen down and closed the notebook, it had gone dark outside. It wasn't even half 4, but Jason was now in the middle of winter. Not so many people were about, all wishing to be in their cosy houses with the fire burning and their hot chocolates. Maybe Jason would stop by that cafe for one on his way home. Maybe.

First he had to find where the Elf's behind was- and it was right beside him. There was a giant cardboard cut out of Will Farrell dressed as Elf, hands on hips and mouth smiling widely. Discreetly watching to make sure nobody saw him leave the notebook and thus remove it, he placed the book down, tucking it out of sight for anyone who was not actively seeking it.

Part of Jason wanted to stick around, and wait for the Aspiring Detective to show up and retrieve the book. But then- then if he did that, Jason thought it would ruin it. Ruin whatever bubble they'd managed to create between the two of them, pop it, pierce it with a large shaft. And Jason didn't want that. He wanted to retain what they had for as long as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO chapters today, aren't you guys so lucky?! I'm going to have to miss conversation notes out of the next chapter, I think, so it goes back to Jason reading Tim's response and Tim reading Jason's in each chapter, instead of Tim writing Tim's and Jason writing Jason's.
> 
> If that makes remotely any sense at all haha


	6. Fanfare for the Brave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I might be." He admitted eventually, and though it felt like a relief to finally utter those words to the girl, it also felt as though he had just unpinned a grenade that was strapped to his chest. Steph nodded gravely, before turning her back on him and continuing to mix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mainly just so I can get the story back on track :3

Tim had refrained from opening the notebook until the next morning, having picked it up the previous night just before the Odeon closed.

He honestly felt like crying. Jason- Jason had had it so bad, and it didn't even sound like it affected him. Had that been Tim- well, the car crash was bad enough for him. Tim didn't think he'd have been able to handle finding his mother like that. No, he definitely would not have been able to.

He had read the entry on the train ride to Steph's house, blinking furiously whenever he felt the stinging sensation of tears prickling behind his eyes. He was aware of the looks he received, and kindly declined when an elderly woman (more than once) offered him a tissue to 'dry his eyes.' He assured her that it was nothing serious, he was just reading a really heartfelt story.

He wasn't cheerful when he arrived at her house, letting himself in dumping his shoes and bag gracelessly in the hallway. He padded through to the kitchen, where Steph was waiting, ingredients and utensils at the ready. "Are you ready to bake?!" She almost screamed at him, before noticing the way his face was. "Tim?" She was by his side in an instant, but he shook her off with a weak smile.

"Yeah," He confirmed, "Yeah, I'm ready to bake." Steph didn't press the matter, but it didn't look like she had entirely let it go either. They were going to bake an assortment of cookies, flapjacks and miniature apple pies. (Tim had argued for mince, since Christmas, but no, Steph would not make something that had such a misleading title. There wasn't even mince in them.)

They fell into a natural pattern, this routine being a common occurrence for them. Baking was actually one of the things they did enjoy doing together, and every chance available, they would. Three recipe books were dotted about, and the pair mediated between them, every now and then swapping and doing some of their partners work before returning to their own baked goods.

They worked mostly in silence, with only the occasional remark and the quiet vibrations of Steph's radio filling the air. Tim didn't know what station was playing; he thought Galaxy to begin with, but then remembered that that no longer existed- and the music sounded a little too heavy to be played by whatever Galaxy's new name was, anyway.

"Uh, Tim- are you doubling the ingredients?" Steph asked, a look of confusion upon her face. Tim stared down at amount of flour he had measured out, the extra eggs lying on the side. Apparently, he was.

Tim blinked, confusion written all over his face until it dawned on him why he had decided to make extra. "Uh, yeah. Sorry, there's someone I want to..." He trailed off, an apologetic smile gracing his face. Steph laughed,

"It's fine. Who're you making them for? Your girlfriend?" She teased, and Tim outwardly cringed. He was glad he had his back to her now, for the moment.

"I don't have a girlfriend." He muttered, and she brushed it off with a quick 'I know, I know'.

"So who are you making then for? We've already got enough for you and your family- Babs included, so there isn't really anyone left- is there?" She was peering at him, a scrutinizing stare as if she hoped to just pull out the information from him like a piece of string.

Tim cleared his throat. "H-his name's Jason." Tim heard the clink as Steph almost dropped her mixing bowl, reflexes acting to catch it before it could hit the floor.

"First, I find you in the gay sex section of the book store. Second, you blow me off to go into the Bullring by yourself, and third, you're making cookies for some guy named Jason!?"

Tim spluttered, trying to explain himself, because, no, you've got it wrong, it wasn't like that- but Steph held up her hand, talking over home.

"That gay sex book wasn't for Dick, was it?" She directed the question at him, speaking sharply.

"It- it wasn't for me!" Tim gaped, flailing slightly. Steph wasn't buying it. Tim could not worm himself out of this one, she would not let him.

"Timothy Jackson Drake," Steph began, and boy, did Tim feel like a child in trouble all over again. "Are you or are you not gay?" Tim's mouth opened and closed several times, before his shoulders slumped in defeat.

He was gay. He had been for quite a while now. He had also not told anybody but himself- and Jason, apparently. But Tim hadn't so much told, rather... hinted to the other male about his homosexuality. Jason said no straights contact him, yet Tim had- so, so that must have, yeah. Just yeah.

"I might be." He admitted eventually, and though it felt like a relief to finally utter those words to the girl, it also felt as though he had just unpinned a grenade that was strapped to his chest. Steph nodded gravely, before turning her back on him and continuing to mix.

"...That's it?" Tim froze. That was decidedly not what he was expecting. Questions, he was expecting. Screams and rants- good or bad, Tim was expecting both. But not nothing. He was anticipating something, anything, everything, But not nothing!

Steph snorted, "Of course that's it. What do you want, fanfare? My best friend's gay, so what. Congrats. That enough for you?" Her tone was heavily sarcastic, but the look she threw over her shoulder at Tim explained that she was joking. "Next we're going to watch Dear John and swoon over how hot Channing Tatum is. I mean, dat ass."

Tim groaned, drawing out a long moan of 'Steeeeeeeeeeeeph!', to which she cackled, mischievously so.

"I'm just messing with you. We don't have to watch Dear John. But we do have to compare the assess of eye-candy every once in a while; that's like, a prerequisite for being gay."

Tim rolled his eyes, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence as they each finished with their ingredients. It was time to put them all in the oven now. They slid each tray in, checking the temperature, and moved all their dirty utensils to the sink.

Tim washed and Steph dried. "So who's Jason?" She inquired, conversationally. Tim froze in his scrubbing of one of the mixing bowls, thinking it over before he resumed. He took extra care on that one, keeping Steph growing ever impatient.

"J-just a guy," He responded, trying to be all nonchalant. Heavens knows if it actually worked or not.

"Is this 'just a guy' your boyfriend?" Tim finally handed her the bowl, though it almost slipped out of his grasp as he heard the final part to her question. It was a good job her hand was there to catch it.

"No." Tim stated, and really wanted to Steph to drop the subject now. He didn't know what, if anything, he wanted out of Jason.

"Do you want him to be your boyfriend?"

"...No."

"That doesn't sound too convincing, Timmy." Tim hated the nickname Timmy.

"It's complicated," He said in lieu, but it did nothing to quell the blonde's curiosity- if anything, it spurred it on.

"How so?" They had reached the end of the washing up. All they had left to do now was wait- which would be another fifteen minutes at least. (Thirty for the flapjacks. Tim had just gotten them out of the oven and cut them into slices, but now they had to set.)

Tim sighed, a little in frustration. How could he explain this to Steph without sounding like a total idiot? Answer: he couldn't. He could lie, of course, but A) He wasn't great at lying, and B) It wouldn't be right to do so. So he started from the beginning, the very beginning, from when he first laid eyes on the red leather bound book.

And proceeded to tell her every detail, from how they had begun this game of Cat and Mouse, to why he was now doubling up ingredients so he could bake the guy some Christmas treats. Stephanie didn't say a word throughout, listening intently.

Tim finished with a small, "Is that weird?" a frown on his face as he looked up at her through his lashes.

"Oh honey," She said softly, bringing him into a hug. They hadn't hugged in a while. "It's not weird. If you're having fun, that's great. I just don't want you to get hurt, okay?"

"Okay." Tim mumbled into her chest, and then pulled back. He felt like crying all over again, but could not discern a reason as to why. She smiled, squeezing his arm as she went to check on the remaining pies and cookies.

"I think they're done!" She exclaimed, opening the oven door. The smell wafted through the air, causing Tim's stomach to rumble.

"Oven gloves, Steph!" He reminded her frantically, passing them over before the blonde tried to pull out the trays with her bare hands.

"Yes, yes." She almost waved him off, taking the gloves and slotting her hands inside before pulling the trays out. She put them on cooling stands. "Is this alright for you, Mr. Safety?"

"It's perfect," Tim mockingly chided. He got out the caster sugar and the boxes of icing sugar, along with a bowl and some decorating pipes. They had four different coloured icing; red, green, orange and blue. All they needed to do was add water, pour into the tubes and decorate!

They got to work doing just that once the cookies had become cool enough to touch, but not so cold that they weren't warm in the mouth. It was about getting that balance right, just like the balance between being too soft and too crunchy.

Before baking, they had used cutters to shape the batch into three outlines: a candy cane, Christmas tree and a snowman. He couldn't actually count how many of each there were. "You know," Tim started as he rolled down the icing pipe to try and squeeze the last of the coating out, "Bruce said you're welcome to come over and stay for Christmas dinner."

"Did he, Tim? Were those his exact words?" It was no secret that Stephanie and Bruce weren't the best of friends. Tim chuckled,

"Well, no. His exact words were 'if she has no other family willing to take her in, then I suppose she can come here.' He does really like you, you know." He added earnestly.

"Hmmm, I'm sure." Responded Steph, dryly. She knew the difference between being tolerated and being welcomed. And what Bruce did was definitely the former. Tim laughed again, a little louder.

"I promise, he does. He's just really bad at showing it. Damian does, at any rate. So at least you have someone's approval." Steph pursed her lips, pausing in her frosting of the cookie to glare half heartedly at her companion.

"Are you saying Dick doesn't?" Tim didn't know if he was misreading the signs, but she looked positively livid. He panicked. That was in no way what he meant.

"N-no!" He fussed, "Dick likes you as well! At least, I know he likes your waffles, so I'm presuming he likes you too..." Tim trailed off, sneaking a humoured glance at Steph, who had resorted to shaking her head- but smiling as she did.

"You little devil, you. You've been spending too much time with Dami." Tim shuddered. He most certainly had not.

By the time everything had cooled and set, and the pair had (regretfully, on Tim's part) watched every Channing Tatum film Steph could find on LOVEFiLM, the sky was almost dark. Tim checked his watch, and decided that, yes, Vertigo would now be open. He had scribbled a response in the diary earlier, whilst Stephanie scoured the site for 21 Jump Street.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you? Could be dangerous..." Tim shook his head,

"No, thanks. I'll be fine by myself. Night, Steph." He turned and walked away, pulling his jacket tighter as he braced the cold.

"G'night!" She called after him, and Tim walked slow until he heard her door shut. He picked up his pace then, almost in a hurry. Inside his bag he had a small tin of flapjacks, cookies and apple pies. He had stuck the red book to the lid with some Gaffer tape.

With some (surprisingly helpful) assistance from Google Maps, Tim found Vertigo easily enough. And just like Jason said, there was a blonde girl guarding the door. Getting many filthy looks as he did so, Tim bypassed the line of people and headed straight for her.  
"Back of the line." She said gruffly, not even glancing Tim's way.

"Ah, no- I don't want to get in." Tim explained,

"Then get out of here." She responded, still not looking at Tim.

"Jason." That got the girl to look up. She reminded him of his sister Cass- there was just something similar about their attitudes. "I have something for Jason," Tim carried on. Realisation seemed to dawn on her face, and her tone softened a little.

"Sorry, kid. You have no idea how many people try to get in by coming this way and attempting to flirt with me." Tim laughed, if a little weak.

"It's fine, it's fine. You're just doing your job. Can I leave something with you for him?" She nodded,

"Sure can."

"Thanks, uh, miss-"

"Artemis. Just call me Artemis."

Tim grinned, "Thanks, Artemis," before fishing the tin out of his bag and handing it over. He kind of wanted to get out of here fast, so he started backing away as he talked. "There's cookies in there, by the way. I don't know how long you've got to stand out here, but if you get peckish, feel free to help yourself. I don't mind, and I'm sure Jason won't either."

That earned him a laugh from Artemis, who waved him a goodbye with the promise of delivering the goods to Jason for him. Tim felt satisfied as he made his way home that night, smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He hoped Jason appreciated those, or at least gave them to someone who did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (and if no one gets the reference title i am going to be so sad)


	7. Sharkbait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Jason, and probably Kory as well, it was endearing how fatherly Roy was to Lian. If Jason was ever fortunate enough to have a kid- he'd want to be the type of dad Roy is. He'd treat his child like a prince or princess, whichever they'd prefer. Perhaps they'd rather a knight, or a dragon, or (heaven forbid) an imp.

The two girls heard the trice knocking on their door, but neither budged immediately, only lifting their heads slightly and turning toward the hall.

"Door." Rose stated, straining her neck to see if she could see the door from her position on the sofa- she couldn't, the eye patch obscured her vision too much for it to work. She knew Artemis, the girl whose lap she was resting her head on, could see it though.

"I know," Artemis agreed, beginning to massage Rose's hair.

"You gonna go answer it?" Rose peeked up at her with her good eye.

"Why can't you?" She grumbled, but nonetheless shifted Rose's head so she could rise from the sofa. The door was knocked again, a little louder this time. "Coming!" She harked, huffing at their impatience.

She didn't bother peeking before opening the door, instead just wrenching it open.

"One double pepperoni, as promised!" Jason grinned, pizza box in hand. He leant it toward her slightly.

Artemis smirked bemusedly. "Would you look at that- the one time you actually deliver." She teased, taking the pizza out of his hands and slamming the door on his face.

Jason blinked, before rolling his eyes. He banged on the door again, and then resorted to ringing the shrill doorbell. Multiple times.

The door swung open to reveal a now pizza less Artemis. "What?" She snapped,

"Where's my tip?" Artemis sighed, before swinging the door open some more and turning heel, rejoining Rose and the pizza on the sofa. Jason followed, pushing the door to behind. "Breakfast bar," She called, after taking a bite. Jason nodded, making his way through to the kitchen.

There, on the black and grey granite, lay a tin with the notebook on top. It had been taped on, and Jason was extremely relieved to find it left no mess- no sticky residue, no parts half stuck on. There was a post it beneath the book.

> _We baked you some cakes. I promise you they're not poisoned._

Jason had to snort at that, and decided he'd open the tin before the book. And give one to Artemis and Rose, first. Not that he didn't believe the Aspiring Detective- but, well, one could never be too careful.

He prised the lid open, and sniffed. They smelled actually very nice- even though they had grown cold, the sweetness lingered in the air around them, trapped by the tin.

"Who wants cookies?" Jason called, picking two up and carrying them through to the living room. "Here." He put them down beside the half eaten pizza, and noticed with glee as Artemis immediately went for one.

"They're actually really good," She said, before taking a bite. Jason frowned a bit in confusion, and Artemis winked, swallowing. "The kid told me to help myself, so I did." She explained, and Jason would never admit that he scowled a bit at the prospect. Artemis laughed, finishing the cookie as he stalked back into the kitchen, where he sat and opened the journal, deciding to go for one of the flapjacks.

> _It's Timothy. I prefer Tim, though._

So now Jason had a name. 'Tim'. He liked that. He could see himself talking to a Tim. Perhaps even a Timmy.

> _By 'We' on the post it, I meant myself and Steph. She's kind of my best friend. Every Christmas we bake cakes and flapjacks together. It's not just Christmas; she's really into baking, so tries to make a habit of it whenever she can. She has this annoying habit of calling me Timmy- please don't do that, by the way. I can't stand that name._

Maybe not a Timmy, then. That was okay.

> _You want to know what I want for Christmas? Well... What I'd like for Christmas is-_

There was a word heavily scribbled out there, the ink layered on so thick in uneven scrawls that it almost when through the page. Jason had no hope of ever deciphering it.

> _a relic. I think I'd very much like a relic. You see, last year, to celebrate my sister's finalised adoption (Cass, by the way. From the video store.) we went on a family holiday to Egypt, and spent several days visiting the pyramids. They were magnificent. Such a sight to behold!_
> 
> _It turns out, every now and then, they hold auctions. Sell off the stuff inside. I'd like to own something inside of there. Whether it's a piece of tapestry, mummified remains, original manuscript, part of a hieroglyph- anything. I'd like to own a piece of history._
> 
> _They're ridiculously expensive, though. Which is also why I wouldn't like to receive it as a gift. Contradictory to your question, I know. Sorry, Jason._

Tim had written his name. Oh. For some odd, questionable reason, it stirred the insides of Jason's stomach in a way that he could not tell if good or bad- but whatever it was, he decided he liked the way 'Jason' looked in Tim's handwriting, and very much hoped that wouldn't be the last time he saw it.

> _I'd want it to be something I bought for myself, with money I earned. I really like history, and it's something I want to take further- and do you know what would be really great? If I could buy a relic with money I earned through a career in history. That would make me so happy._
> 
> _I don't have a question for you, this time. I'd like you to choose what to write. Could be anything, I don't mind. Go nuts._
> 
> _Just give the diary to the bored looking male overseeing the seals. (He's not bored, that's just the only expression he knows. Don't tell him I said that.)_

Seals...? Sea _ls._  Marine animals. Sea creatures. Sea life- the Sea Life Centre! Jason was going to the Sea Life Centre- the underwater zoo. It's a good job he wasn't banned from the one in this town. (Completely not his fault, by the way. That had Kyle Rayner written all over it.)

"All right, I'll see you girls later." Jason called, having packed up his tin of (delicious) goodies and pocketed the journal, now heading for the front door. He heard a grunt of a goodbye, and headed out into the night.

The morning after he found himself taking a detour on the way to the Sea Life Centre, now standing in front of Roy's house.

He ringed the bell just once, knowing that someone would actually answer it.

"You better not be here to distract Roy. He's  _finally_  started to decorate the spare room." Was the first thing said, before the door had even opened fully and Jason laughed, knowing for just how long Kory had been begging her partner to do that.

"Not at all, not at all. I'd rather watch him work than talk to him, if I dare say so." Kory smiled, stepping aside to allow Jason entrance. He walked in feeling at ease, the place almost like a second home to him.

"You changed the wallpaper?" Jason asked, noticing how the hallway had seemed a little... less red the last time he had been around. Kory nodded,

"I felt like the place could do with some brightening up." She told him, and Jason nodded, humming in agreement. He liked red, and the black they had previously was a little morbid. For obvious reasons they couldn't use green.

Jason followed Kory into the kitchen, and all of a sudden there was the pounding of footsteps thundering down the stairs.

"Uncle Jason, Uncle Jason!" Jason didn't have time to blink before he was assaulted with a staggering thud, arms constricting tightly around his waist.

Chuckling, he ruffled Lian's dark locks. "Hey there, squirt."

"What do you want?" Roy had followed Lian down the stairs, at a much quieter (and slower) pace. He was holding an empty glass in his hand.

"Well hello to you too, Mr. Grumpy Pants. What's wrong, Kory banish you from the bed again?" The remark earned him a swat around the back of the head from Kory, and a hard glare from Roy. He laughed it off though, Lian giggling too- not that she understand why, of course.

"If you're just here to annoy me, then I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Roy grumbled, heading to the fridge to fill up his glass.

"M'not, promise. I'm actually here to hijack Lian." Roy raised an eyebrow, whilst taking a sip of his glass. Lian looked up at Jason and grinned at the mention of her name, before finally releasing her hold from him.

"Define 'hijack'." Roy sounded mighty suspicious. Jason shrugged,

"You know, couple of hijinks, maybe a shoot out, high speed car chase, sneak into an 18- that sort of thing." Jason trailed off with a wave of his hand. Roy nearly spat out his drink.

"Absolutely not!" He chocked, spluttering slightly. Jason gave him a dead panned stare.

"Sea life centre. I'm taking her to the sea life centre."

Roy seemed considerably relieved by that. "Okay. Th-that's okay." It was like he was struggling to get the words out. To Jason, and probably Kory as well, it was endearing how fatherly Roy was to Lian. If Jason was ever fortunate enough to have a kid- he'd want to be the type of dad Roy is. He'd treat his child like a prince or princess, whichever they'd prefer. Perhaps they'd rather a knight, or a dragon, or (heaven forbid) an imp.

"Nemo!" Lian gushed excitedly, almost giddy on the spot.

"Lots an' lots o' Nemo," Jason agreed, grinning down at her before they both turned to Roy, puppy dog expressions in place.

"Can I go? Daddy, please! I wanna see Bruce and Chum!" Lian was begging, and she ran over to Roy, hands clasped and looking up at him desperately. 

_'Bruce and Chum?'_  Jason mouthed at Kory, who simply imitated a shark bite with her mouth. Jason struggled to stifle his laughter, and was rewarded with an equally contained smile from Kory- he could see in her eyes how much she wanted to start laughing too, and if that didn't make it even more difficult to keep quiet, then Jason didn't know what  _would_.

Roy ran a hand through his hair, before sighing. "Yes, you can go. Just be back before it's dark." Lian squealed, and Jason cringed slightly. He didn't think he'd ever heard her voice go that loud before. Roy smirked, as if to say,  _'you asked for this'._

"Make sure you rap up warm," Kory called as Lian practically bolted away, clambering up the stairs to her room. She came back down not moments later, skidding to a stop in the kitchen and almost tripping.

"Okay okay okay, Uncle Jay, let's go!" She grabbed Jason's had, dragging him out and down the hall to the front door, shoving on her shoes.

"Can you tie your shoes?" Jason asked, slipping his own. Lian brushed him off impatiently,

"I don't need to tie the laces to get them on!" And apparently she didn't, shoving one of her fingers in the space her heel went and jamming her foot inside until it fit. Kids.

Jason would never admit it to Roy, or even Kory, but he had to zone out on the way there. They walked most of the way, having gotten a short bus journey across the town, hand in hand, Lian talking non-stop about fish. Turned out she really, really liked aquatic animals. Jason knew what he was getting her for Christmas.

"Sharks sharks sharks, come on Uncle Jay, we gotta go see the sharks!" Jason decided long ago that he wouldn't be surprised if he had to spend the next three hours looking at sharks. They seemed to be her favourite.

"Okay, okay" Jason agreed, stalling her long enough to buy their entrance tickets. As soon as they were inside, Lian was off like a rocket, running straight up to the glass and peering inside.

Jason trailed behind her, watching as the excitement lit up her face, her eyes. He stood a while back, hands in pockets and fond smile laced on his face.

"Is that your daughter?" Jason hadn't noticed anybody come up beside him, so jumped slightly, blushing sheepishly as he heard the male's voice.

He glanced quickly to the left, and noticed something familiar about the guy- but couldn't place where he had seen him before. Probably in a dream, or seen some guy who looked similar in a crowded street or something. Jason definitely didn't know him.

"Ah, no." Jason cleared his throat, "She's my niece." Jason could just see the guy nod.

"She's really into fish, I see." He observed, and then it was Jason's turn to nod.

"Yeah. Sharks are her favourite, though. I think we're heading there next. As soon as she finds them." Jason laughed, mostly to himself. He noticed the guy let out a small laugh as well, though.

"Well, if you want to save some time- that is, let your niece spend even more time with the sharks- they're down the corridor and to the left, there's a flight of stairs that brings you to about halfway up the tank."

Jason blinked, a little surprised by the guy's generosity. Was he an employee here? He wasn't wearing a uniform, so he presumed not. Maybe he was another fish fanatic, just like Lian.

"Thanks, man." He said, before calling out, "Hey, Lian, wanna go see some sharks?" Lian turned instantly, letting out a loud and excited  _'Woo, yeah! Sharks!'_

Jason laughed again, holding his hand out as Lian ran over to take it.

"No problem," The guy replied as Lian towed Jason away, "Have a nice day!" He called, laughing a little.

"Who was that?" Lian asked, as Jason directed them toward the apparent location of the shark tank. They had just reached the stair case.

"No idea," Jason answered, "Some fish fanatic, I think." Lian nodded, in the way she did when there was a word used that was too big for her to understand- but she was far too stubborn to ask for clarification. She'd just mull it over for a while and then forget about it- like she did when she spotted the first shark, which made her jump up and down. Jason had to let go of her hand, lest he wanted a dislocated shoulder.

Jason didn't know how long they stayed at the shark tank. Sharks came and went, with Lian getting excited as soon as she spotted a dark shadow in the distance. She would point excitedly, exclaiming: "Uncle Jay, Uncle Jay,  _look!_ " To which Jason would have to come closer and literally stick his face to the glass until she was satisfied- which wasn't usually until after it had swam away.

"You had enough of the sharks, yet?" Jason eventually inquired. He was answered with a prompt and distinct 'Nope.' He sighed, "Come on, what about seals? They're kinda like sharks."

Lian drew back, giving her uncle a measured look. "No they're not." She stated. "They're no where near fierce enough." Jason pretended to look offended.

"Just what are you  _saying_?" He asked, maybe overplaying the dramatics of it a little bit. Oh well, it worked. Lian immediately looked a bit regretful.

"I'm not saying anything, Uncle Jay!" She was quick to jump bandwagons, "Seals are totally as fierce as sharks! Come on!" And so, she dragged him all the way to the seal enclosure.

And just as Tim had predicted, there was a bored looking guy clad in uniform standing watch- well, he wasn't standing watch. He was leaning over the barrier, petting a seal. He stopped as soon as he saw Jason and Lian, though. Jason presumed he wasn't technically supposed to be doing that, then.

Jason let Lian run around to the other side, where a few of the seals were in the water. He'd rather her not be privy to this, anyhow.

"I'm guessing your Tim's friend?" Jason asked, and the guy nodded, if a little guarded. Jason didn't fail to notice the way his eyes narrowed. "Here," Jason pulled the book out of his pocket, handing it over. He idly wondered what it was with Tim and having friends/relatives who were mute.

"You're Jason." And though it sounded as though it should have been a question, it clearly was not.

"Uh, yeah." The guy nodded again, the red book hanging by his side.

"Good." Jason was a little confused, but decided not to pursue conversation with this guy for any longer. He had a feeling he wouldn't advance very far.

"Okay, well, see you." He said as parting, turning away to find Lian so they could go home- that was, if she was done with the seals and the sharks.

She was, but she insisted on stopping by the souvenir shop and buying a stuffed one. She named it Anchor, who was, apparently, another shark from the movie Nemo. Jason guessed he'd end up watching it with her sooner or later.

"Now," Jason said when they were outside, once again taking Lian's hand and swinging it high. "How 'bout we go get some pizza?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHA Dr Who 50th and Sherlock trailer killed me tonight so actually thank the BBC for the cruel scene I put in at the sea life centre.  
> Also, I think this is the longest chapter??


	8. Pizza Express

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "O-okay." He said, still a little uncomfortable. Tim couldn't name the exact feeling in his chest- confusion? Definitely; Kon was straight, Kon had a girlfriend, Kon was calling his pen-pal cute. What the heck? Anger, possibly. Why did Kon get to experience this 'cute' face, but not Tim? That wasn't fair. It was Tim that Jason had been conversing with, not some one-faced seal tamer and- and, oh. Oh, shitting bollocks. This feeling wasn't anger. This feeling was jealousy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote over 1,000 words on Merlin. Oops. **LONGEST CHAPTER SO FAR! YEAH!**

Tim visited Kon and the seals just before closing time, intent on walking home with the other boy.

"Did they drop the notebook off?" He asked immediately- and what a great conversation starter that was. Kon nodded, and handed him said notebook. "Thanks." Tim breathed, turning it over slowly in his hands before putting it in his bag. He hadn't noticed last time, but the book was beginning to show signs of rough ageing- no doubt caused by their passing of it back and forth so frequently, and in such strange circumstances- seals, really?

"You know," Kon began as they walked through the empty hallways lined with fish receiving their late night feed, the atmosphere eerily silent. Tim wondered if this was how the people in Jaws felt when they first embarked upon the underwater tunnel, how it would have been at night.

Or if this was how Margo Roth Spiegelman and Quentin Jacobsen felt when they broke into SeaWorld, disappointed because none of the animals were on show.

"He's actually kind of cute." Kon finished, and it drew Tim up short.

"I thought you were straight."

"Oh, I am." Kon assured him, "But he's still cute. Handsome. Would do him if I was a girl. Or gay, whichever." Kon shrugged, apparently not noticing Tim's new found discomfort.

"O-okay." He said, still a little uncomfortable. Tim couldn't name the exact feeling in his chest- confusion? Definitely; Kon was straight, Kon had a girlfriend, Kon was calling his pen-pal cute. What the heck? Anger, possibly. Why did Kon get to experience this 'cute' face, but not Tim? That wasn't fair. It was  _Tim_  that Jason had been conversing with, not some one-faced seal tamer and- and, oh. Oh, shitting bollocks. This feeling wasn't anger. This feeling was  _jealousy._

Tim was  _jealous_  of Kon, and Cass, and Roy from Waterstones, Artemis the part time bouncer- everyone who had met Jason and wasn't him. Not good, so so not good. Because if Tim was  _jealous_  then Tim- Tim had  _feelings_  for Jason, certain  _jealousy inducing_  feelings, and oh man, was that  _not good._

Tim didn't know what to do, so attempted to brush it off with a joke. "So he'd definitely a teenage guy and not some freak paedophilic forty-year-old with a fetish for cute virgin boys, then?" Kon snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Not forty, more like seventeen, eighteen I guess, older than you. And he could still be a paedophilic  _teenager_  with a fetish for cute virgin boys, but I don't think that'll really matter because, though you may be a virgin, you're not nearly cute enough."

"Gee, thanks, honey. I love you too." Tim's sarcastic remark was said with total indifference, and as humorous as Kon apparently found it - that straight face twisted in a smile, Tim swears by it - he didn't produce any vocal sounds of laughter. The slight smile was enough for Tim, though.

"Can you not read and walk?" Kon asked, and Tim blinked in surprise.

"Uh, yes?" He answered, confused as to why Kon was asking. Kon sighed, as though the answer was obvious. Perhaps it was.

"Then read your message, idiot." Tim didn't cotton on for a few moments, but when he did, he blushed furiously.

"I wouldn't want to be rude." He said in way of explaining, and it caused Kon to roll his eyes.

"I don't care, idiot. You may as well, I'm not going to be speaking much." That part was true, so Tim listened to his friend, and pulled out the notebook.

Tim noticed there was no official greeting when he opened the book, and also noticed Jason had taken to the liberty of tabbing the page with a small red clip out. They'd advanced pretty far into the pages; Tim wouldn't be surprised if soon, one of them had to purchase a new one. Tim kind of hoped he'd get to do that, and possibly keep the old one. He was being greedy, yes, but he couldn't help it.

The entry was inexplicably short; less than a page in length. It made his heart deflate a little bit.

> _So, Tim, you're telling me to write anything I want, huh? That's not very informative, and now I have no idea what to tell you. So I'm going to take a stab in the dark, in the hopes you'll find this entry enjoyable/relatable/informative/whatever, and give you a sort of low down-slash-review of a TV series I just finished watching- BBC's Merlin._
> 
> _I don't want to fill up the diary, because this is ridiculously long. (I went in to far, far too much detail, and for that I am incredibly sorry. But if you plough through it, I hope the end will be worth the wait.)_
> 
> _You heard of the Pizza Palace over on Broad Street? Take this book there when you're. Doesn't matter who's manning the counter, just order a Caribbean Expense, and they'll give you the next part._

Tim was glad that the Pizza Palace was a 24/7 fast food place. He wasn't glad, however, that he was now alone. Panicked slightly, he whipped his head back and forth, finally noticing the name of the street he'd just passed.  _James Road;_  Kon lived down there. He wondered when -or if, the other teen had said goodbye.

Tim  _hoped_  he had, but he just couldn't recall it. Hadn't been paying attention. Ah, well. Sighing, he noted the time on his watch had just turned eleven, and the street lamps are well and truly lit- but Tim knew that in just a couple hours they would have shut off.

A stupid, crime rate increasing policy, if you were to ask Tim. He didn't know who thought of the idea, and why they seemed to believe it to be such a good act. It wasn't.

At his brisk walking pace, it didn't take long for Tim to reach the Pizza Palace, having put the book away now that he knew he was well and truly alone.

"Hey, Tim!" Bart called as soon as he entered the pizza joint.

That's right, Bart worked at the Pizza Palace. Tim didn't know he was working today, though. Bart was another one of Tim's good friends, but he was decidedly the odd one out, with the kid being a total blabbermouth and extremely social and whatnot. He was just like his older cousin Wally (and Tim's sort of brother-in-law)- except not as embarrassing. Tim would never forget the time Wally and Dick tried to take them to a theatre production of Jack and the Beanstalk. It was  _horrifying;_  Tim didn't think he had ever encountered somebody as afraid of cows as Wally was- and the play was his idea in the first place!

Bart would never suggest something as ludicrous as that, were they ever stuck with babysitting younger siblings- or he so hoped, anyhow. Perhaps they'd do something like the stranger from the Sea Life Centre did yesterday- and take the children somewhere they'd actually  _enjoy._  He idly wondered if they'd managed to find the shark tank, and just how long they'd actually stayed there, before he returned his attention to Bart.

"What'll it be?" Tim had now reached the counter, and he glanced briefly at the menu plastered on the wall behind.

"Ham and Pineapple for one please, and, uh," Tim was a bit hesitant to say this, as he remembered Jason's words -' _doesn't matter who's manning the counter'_ , but he wasn't sure if he was ready for another person to find out. It didn't seem, however, that he had another choice. "a Caribbean Expense."

Bart had started typing into the cash register when Tim had ordered, and his fingers promptly froze when Tim spoke the last part. He stared at Tim, wide eyed and like a doe. He blinked owlishly.

"...What?" Tim asked, quite confused as Bart's look was positively unnerving.

"Yo- you're Jason's Tim!" Now it was Tim's turn to blink so owlishly- Tim was positively afraid. He gulped. "That's so weird!"

"You know Jason, then?" Bart nodded, quick and sharp. Tim had maybe slightly hoped he wouldn't have- that someone had left a note atop the Caribbean Expense box (Tim didn't actually know what it was, for it was not on the menu) saying to deliver it to the patron that ordered it, but alas, that was apparently not the case. Bart and Jason were familiar with one another.

"Oh... Okay." Tim didn't quite know how to respond to that. They had a fully mutual friend. What were the odds? They could have already met. But Tim didn't remember a Jason? But that didn't mean  _anything!_  How often had Bart dragged him to social media 'meet ups', made him join one of his groups of friends on an outing- they spoke too fast to be understood, he could have introduced Tim to a Jason and Tim just simply not have understood! Oh, oh. Tim felt faint.

"He works here." Bart's voice crashed through Tim's musings like a satellite out of orbit, and Tim physically jumped.

"W-what?" Tim stammered, because seriously, what?! Bart seemed to notice his slip up immediately, as he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and look extremely nervous.

"Ah, uh, oops. Wasn't meant to let that slip out, hah, uh, so how about that pizza?" Bart could be very fast when he wanted to be, and right then it was obvious he didn't want to be out the front any more- but as he turned away, no doubt to spend five minutes in the back begging someone else to take over his shift, Tim's fingers clamped down onto his arm, nails digging in. Bart winced.

"He  _works_  here?" Tim hissed, and honestly, Bart was terrified. Tim was acting so  _weird,_  so...  _territorial._  "Why didn't you  _tell_  me?" Tim was glaring now, and Bart gulped.

"Because I didn't know!" Bart almost wailed, definitely a little afraid now.

And there it was inside Tim's being again; that green rage monster under the name Envy rearing its ugly head, swelling up his chest and biting the flesh on the insides of his cheek. Tim could only nod, and it felt straight, his neck and head heavy as though they would snap clean off, roll onto the floor and leave a bloodless trail in its wake through the door, out into the street, where it would lie in wait for the frost and snow to freeze it solid.

Of course Bart hadn't known. How would he have? They've only just realised that there was a mutual connection- which Jason was still unaware of, Tim guessed. Slowly, he released Bart's arm from his hold, and noticed the way the boy jittered backwards slightly, now unable to stand still.

"Sorry, Tim." And he sounded sincere; Tim sighed. He hadn't meant to have such an adverse reaction.

"My fault, overreacted." He muttered, eyes cast downward, and Bart seemed to perk up almost directly after.

"I'm guessing you want the extra notes, then?" Bart hadn't shifted any closer, but he had warmed up considerably. Tim was almost completely forgiven, if he had to speculate.

"Please." He responded, a little tersely.  

Bart was gone in a flash, and back in an instant, small pizza box in hand.

"Here," He palmed the box over to Tim as Tim began fishing out the money- but Bart halted his hand. Tim looked up, startled, just as Bart began talking. "Don't worry about it, Tim. This one's on me- or Jason, whichever you prefer." And then Bart  _winked._

Oh, Tim was definitely forgiven. And now he was being mocked. Inevitably, Tim flushed a bright red. Stammering a thanks, Tim made his way over to one of the vacant tables in the corner, huddling up against the wall.

He began to read whilst munching on the pizza. Halfway through, Bart brought him a drink over and winked- which made Tim blush all over again. God  _damn_ it.

> _For starters, those treats you and your girl Steph made? De-licious. I loved them. So did Artemis- she appreciated the offer you made to her, and know that I now have to supply her and her girlfriend with pizzas from this very store every night now because of it. (That's not actually why I have to, but for kicks, I'm going to say it is. Boo you, Tim, Boo you. Shun.)_
> 
> _But the last time I tried to bake- well, I'm pretty sure at least three of Selina's cats ran away. So I shan't be returning your favour in that way, I'm sorry._

Tim had to pause and do a little thinking there- was Jason exaggerating? ' _At least three'_  implies that Selina, and ergo Jason, has more than three, possibly more than five, cats. That's... a whole load of cats. Uh.

> _I'll have to figure out a way to repay you- there's not much I can do. Well, I can draw, but for lack of a better model, they're usually cats. Are you a cat person, Tim?_
> 
> _Well, great if you are, great if you're not. I'm not here to talk about cats. I'm here to talk about medieval Camelot._
> 
> _I'll deliver a brief synopsis._
> 
> _So it's set in this ancient kingdom of Camelot, where King Uther Pendragon has outlawed the use of magic. Anybody caught using it is tried and then killed- think Salem witch trials. But not quite as barbaric._
> 
> _He's hunted dragons too, and all have been killed but one- voiced by John Hurt, kept captive in the dungeons. Merlin can talk to him, and he eventually sets him free- but the dragon also has to adhere to Merlin's word, come when he calls. Merlin is his master, the last dragonlord in existence._
> 
>   
> _Merlin is a warlock. A very, very powerful one. And a very, very handsome one, I mean;_ _have you_ seen _Colin Morgan? He's like an Irish Tom Hiddleston- hah, imagine that; an Irish Loki- wait a minute, that sounds a little like an alcoholic drink, doesn't it? "Hello sir yes I'd like to purchase an Irish Loki please." Sounds sorta rummy, maybe a bit of coconut, some pumpkin spice, vanilla, whiskey- and you get the idea, but I'm going to stop because I'm running a bit off tangent here. I told you this was going to be long, Timmy! Ooops, Tim. Sorry- why don't you like that name, by the way? Also, you_ are _a fan of the Avengers (read: Loki) right?? RIGHT?? What am I saying? Of course you are. (But in the slight off chance that you are not, I completely understand and promise I will not hound you with questions as to why. WHY???)_  
> 
> 
> _Back to Merlin._
> 
> _He plays a fine, fine Merlin- and not just with his looks. He really captures the way a naive magician (and I'm using the term very loosely, I know he's a wizard/warlock/magic man, and I'm not going to remember which term I've decided to use so I'm going to use all four and you better like it.) and yeah, he's just so great._
> 
> _So Merlin has, at the request of his mother, left his home village and travelled to Camelot to live with a guy named Gaius. Gaius is the court physician, and he used to practice magic. The reason Uther didn't have him killed was because he trusts the man, the main raised his son Arthur. Gaius has to help Merlin control his magic, and stop him from using it in public. Public displays will get him killed, obviously._
> 
> _So Arthur, Prince of Camelot, is a twat. A loveable twat. He's horrible to Merlin, but at the same time- he cares deeply for him, and the way their chemistry grows on screen is true brilliance. The show manages to mix the seriousness with light heartedness fluently. It's great. After saving Arthur's life (using magic!! What a shocker!! - this happens so many times in the show it's unreal), Merlin is appointed to being his servant- I know, I know, that's like the epitome of rewards. Becoming one's servant after one has saved one's life. Hmmmmm._
> 
> _Arthur is heavily, heavily dependent on Merlin. There's a running gag that whenever Arthur goes to the chambers that Gaius and Merlin reside in, looking for Merin, (who is usually out doing some illegal magicy spell that resolves around the plot of the episode), Gaius will say that he's gone to the tavern. Merlin hasn't gone to the tavern._
> 
> _Merlin isn't the only magic person, though. There's also Morgana- Arthur's half sister, though I can't remember if he knows that or not. Wait, yes, he does. He finds out in one of the later series, and so does Uther, and boy, is that a shocker for the both of them. She's good, for a while. And then her magic develops, and she becomes scared, is almost killed by a witch hunter- and does what any rational guy (girl) would do, and becomes the villain._
> 
> _She doesn't know Merlin has magic, and wants to kill Arthur so she can become Queen of Camelot- she even attempts to kill Guinevere, Arthur's main love interest, in order to do so. Obviously, she does not succeed._
> 
> _Merlin has this ability/spell to transform into an old guy- this is vital. In this form, he's named 'Emrys.' That's a name given to him by the Druids- it means 'Immortal' (Fun fact: Merlin is actually immortal. Gosh, I'd hate that. Everyone you know and love dying every few years, it'd be horrible.)_
> 
> _Then there's the Knights of the Round Table. I love those guys. The way they all meet and come about is absolutely brilliant, each character trickled in slowly. Lancelot and Gwaine ( **UNF** , Eoin Macken) are my favourites, but of course there's also Percival, Leon, Elyon and I guess technically Mordred, but no. Just no. Not a nice guy. _
> 
> _The whole plot of the show is for basically three things to happen; Arthur to become king. Merlin to ensure that happens and that Arthur stays alive. Gwen to become Arthur's Queen. There's a whole load of other sub plots too, and they're great, and if you haven't seen this show already you must, because it's fantastic and I think I may be in love._
> 
> _And this synopsis wasn't brief at all. I lied._
> 
> _I'm not going to say anything else about it, because I'm sure you're perfectly capable of doing some research yourself, and boring you to death is not my goal here._
> 
> _I don't have a question either- well, I might, but I won't ask because you didn't ask me one. This is a two way street, you know? So I'm going to ask that you tell me something that's currently going on in your life now. Could be a hobby, obsession _(_ Please _don't tell me it's of Ewen McGregor/Danny Boyle.) or just a little anecdote from last Tuesday. Anything at all. A fantasy, no matter how weird or smut filled or childlike.__
> 
>  
> 
> _I'll give two options on how to return this to me, your answer in tow. You can A) give it back in the Caribbean Expense box and it shall be returned to me promptly. Or B) trek down to Waterstones where this crazy foray into the unknown began and give this to Roy. I don't particularly mind, as I'm going to have to visit both places._

Tim was a guy of ideals, practicality. He was very good at calculating, making decisions. And he was already at the Pizza Palace, and Waterstones would not be open until the morning- so he did what any sane person would do, and spent several minutes jotting down his response, before placing back inside the box and handing it back to Bart's confused face.

"Give this back to Jason, please." He explained, and Bart nodded, scribbling down a note on top of the box and putting it on a pile. "Thanks," Tim said, and then, "Good night, Bart."

"Yeah, night!" Bart called, though he sounded somewhat distracted. So now Tim knew where Jason worked. That was... good? Bad? Tim didn't know, but it stirred something inside of him. He didn't know if that was good or bad, either, but he decided that for the rest of the night- he would not think about it, would not dwell on it. He'd go home, get some sleep, and call Steph. Maybe in that order, maybe not. He was undecided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got so confused writing this because i was originally going to have bart give tim the book but i remembered jason had left it with kon so that couldn't work so i figured jason could write something really long and be considerate which is how merlin appeared becaUSE FEELS.
> 
> sorry.
> 
> paggers out.


	9. Mutual Acquaintace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Huffing out a breath, Jason ditched his jacket and gloves, instead donning one of the dark emerald employee aprons and a small (matching) hat. He kind of felt like Robin Hood- you know, if Robin Hood ever worked in a 24/7 pizza joint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was so tempted to call this chapter Auld Acquaintance aha  
> )  
> (There is also a Tumblr tag for this fic! it's **194101**

It was too early for Jason to function properly. There was just something inherently wrong with the idea of having to start work at 6- and on the run up to Christmas, too! There were only eleven days left until the big day- not that Jason was counting.

Really, he wasn't. It just so happened that every morning he would receive a text from Lian, via Roy's phone, wishing him a 'Merry day before the day before the day before the day before the day before the day before the day before the eve of Christmas before Christmas!'

He was positive Lian didn't type all of that, nor add up the days. He was positive it was Roy. But on the offhand that it  _was_  Lian, he didn't call Roy out on it lest he upset the child. And he  _really_  didn't want to do that so near Christmas.

When he walked into the joint, Bart was still wide awake, up and almost running around the place. Jason had no idea where the kid got so much energy from, or how he was so easily conversing with the few customers littered about.

There weren't that many so early, and they were mainly students taking advantage of the free Student WiFi they had in place- Jason knew the signs of students without having to see their ID cards. Bruised, tired eyes, battered laptops and notebooks, crooked hands with a touch of arthritis and/or carpel tunnel from writing too much, yawning incessantly, surrounded by greasy pizza wrappers and multiple cups of energy drinks and caffeine. Yeah,  _they_ were the students. Jason almost felt bad for them. Almost. If he had to suffer through this when school once again picked up, then they could still suffer through it now.

Upon noticing Jason, Bart, having returned to his appropriate position behind the counter, had begun acting a little suspiciously. Jason watched Bart with calculating eyes. He was fidgeting- well, the boy always fidgeted, constantly in motion- but this time was different. Bart seemed afraid. Of what, Jason had no idea. He narrowed his eyes at the younger teen.

"Bart," He said slowly, coming in through the 'Staff Only' door and standing beside the boy, looking down at him. "Is everything all right?"

And then Bart squeaked, like a poor puppy that had just had its trust with its owner broken in way of said owner accidentally stepping on the pup's paw.

"Yep! Everything is mighty fine Jay, absolutely hickory dory, can't say a bad word about it no not at all you're diary from Tim is under the counter but I gotta go see Wally and I may or may not have let slip you work here okay BYE!" Bart's voice propelled off syllables at rapid pace, forming what Jason was  _presuming_  were words- but, really, who knew with Bart?

Hardly anybody could keep up with the kid's pacing when he was jittery or nervous, and Jason had no idea what had caused the boy to become so! It was a little annoying, if he was honest. He hadn't caught hardly any of that speech, except a few titbits like 'mighty fine' and 'Tim' and 'slip'... Had Tim came in, took the notes, and slipped on a wet floor sign?

Jason blinked and whirled around immediately, wanting to demand either some confirmation or denial of his theory, but Bart had long ago left the Pizza Palace. Dang, that kid moved fast.

Huffing out a breath, Jason ditched his jacket and gloves, instead donning one of the dark emerald employee aprons and a small (matching) hat. He kind of felt like Robin Hood- you know, if Robin Hood ever worked in a 24/7 pizza joint.

Jason didn't get a chance to read the book until his break- and oh, how sourly temped he had been to try beforehand. The book had been left atop the Caribbean Expense box, with no post it of instructions or anything on the top- which just made Jason's curiosity  _boil_.

When twelve rolled around, he was more than eager to snatch up the book, temporarily hang up his apron, and retreat into the break room. There, he nestled into one of the black foam filled fabric coated sofas, opening the book. Tim had even reused Jason's tab from earlier.

>   
> _Cats are acceptable. I mean, I'm not generally an animal person- but I guess I'd prefer them to a slobbering dog. Damian has a dog. He's a Great Dane, and his name is Titus. He's nicer to me than Damian is, but we're not the best of friends. He's too strong, so I can't walk him- that limits our bonding time. I have_ no _idea how Damian manages it._  
> 
> 
> _Did you know, Jason, that we have a mutual acquaintance? Bart and I went to high school together. We go to different colleges now, but we're still pretty close. Small world, huh? Oh, and he accidentally let slip that you work here- I didn't ask him, I promise. I'm sure you've noticed how much of a motor mouth the kid has._

Oh, Jason noticed. Everyone noticed that about Bart. (He also noticed there wasn't a greeting either, but he let that slide, since he couldn't remember if he had given one or not- and though it would have been easy to check, Jason just didn't think to.) That explained Bart's earlier behaviour, too. Jason couldn't help the bemused smile that lit up his face, because poor Bart. That must have been a daunting realisation for the kid. But then the words truly hit him. Tim and Bart were friends.  _Friends._ F R I E N D S.

They had socialised together, talked to each other, and how many friends did Bart  _have?_  Bart had quite a lot, and more often than not, they hung around during his shifts. Jason felt the insides of his stomach drop. Had- had he met Tim before? Served him pizza? It was entirely possible, of course it was! They lived in the same city for goodness' sake, and it's not like the thought had never occurred to Jason before- it's just that, now, it felt a lot more real than it had on those previous occasions.

> _I'm pretty sure Bart doesn't want to become our messenger, so I'm actually going to ask that you don't leave this with Bart- as easy as that would be._
> 
> _Instead, I'm going to introduce you to 'my girl Steph'- eventually. First, I'd like you to follow your nose._

Jason snorted at the way it was put in quotations, but couldn't quite discern whether Tim was being sarcastic or just quoting Jason's earlier statement. Oh, well, he decided. It didn't really matter either way.

But that last part? Made absolutely no sense at all. Tim was talking in riddles.  _"'Follow my nose'"_  Jason quoted, scoffing slightly. "What the hell does that even mean?"

"What the hell does  _what_  mean?" Bunker had 'conveniently' stuck his head in to the break room, catching the last part of Jason's rambling. He repeated the riddle, and Bunker only shook his head before disappearing. What a useful addition that was, Jason felt he was  _so_  much closer to solving the problem than before.

Jason frowned, mulling it over in his brain. This feeling was familiar, though. And he could not deny it's lurking exhilaration- they were playing chase again. Though who was cat and who was mouse was still undecided.

He continued mulling it over even after his break finished, when he had to return to the counter to serve the customers. It was obvious he was a little distracted, but no one called him out on it. It was Christmas, after all. Everyone had at least something on their mind.

The Pizza Palace was usually full of noise, but the voice of one girl carried high above the rest. "Have you  _smelt_  them? I mean, they're  _fantastic._ _And_  hand crafted, can you  _believe_  it?" The voice was nasally, and the emphasis on certain words- making them sound louder, as though they were heavily italicised. Now, Jason wasn't usually one to pry into the affairs of strangers - particularly not ones he found unbearable- but,  _smelling._  And to smell, one needs a nose. So, in some completely logical way, this could quite possibly be his bell to chime. His ticket to meeting Tim's girl Steph. So if Jason could just ask them when they came to order...

At long last, the two girls reached the counter and hushed instantly. Jason smiled at them, clearing his throat. "What'll it be, ladies?" The girls giggled, nudging each other in a futile attempt to get the other to order first. All of the apparent loud confidence from earlier had vanished, revealing the teens that they really were. That was okay- a delay in their ordering meant time for Jason to subtly serve them with a Spanish inquisition.

"Sorry," Jason began, "I couldn't help but overhear- what smells were you on about earlier?" The one girl -the quietest, who had barely spoken before and only seemed mildly interested in what the other had to say, blinked and blushed a little, as though embarrassed Jason had managed to hear. She probably hadn't realised just how loud they actually were. Her companion, brown haired, blue eyed, such a rare specimen, seemed to regain her earlier persona.

"Eh, you don't know about the German Market?" She asked, sounding outright insulted and bewildered. The voice was still nasally, but a little less so. Jason felt his face twitch- in anger, most likely. He wasn't stupid. Everyone knew of the German Market; it had taken up more than the whole of Sorl Street. There were a couple of stalls  _right outside_ the god damn pizza parlour. But he maintained his 'sweet; disposition, knowing it was the way most likely to get information and played along, acting innocent.

"No," He mused, "Is that where they sell Germans?" He was being utterly ludicrous, and while the brown haired girl giggled at his 'naivety', the other rolled her eyes as if seeing it for the ruse it really was. Jason winked at her, when the other wasn't looking. He always liked a good sport.

"No, silly! The Germans sell to  _us._  Y'know, things like incense and little trinkets, food- pretzels and frankfurters and grilled mushrooms, it's huge!"

"Oh, really? That  _does_  sound fascinating- especially the incense. I just  _love_  lavender. Where about is it?" The girl leant forward, animated, with a glint in her eye.

"I could talk you there- once you get off work, if you'd like." Jason chuckled,

"I would, but I'm afraid I don't finish until midnight. I wouldn't want you to have to wait around for me for so long." Jason sighed, as though he was grieving the prospect of not being able to accompany the girl. She reached over, laying a hand on Jason's arm.

"You poor boy," She spoke as though consoling him, not even doing the math- there was no way Jason could be working until midnight. That was far too many hours for it to be legal.

"Would you mind giving me directions?" It wouldn't be too difficult to find- but this way was less time consuming. She nodded eagerly.

"Of course! Just take a left at the end of this street, where they sell all the meat, and you should come to a round fountain. The incense is around there." Jason smiled at her, teeth almost gleaming.

"Thank you so much," He said sweetly, and the girl blushed, before saying goodbye and leading her friend away- not even ordering anything. Jason chuckled, getting back to work by serving the next customer.

His shift ended at two, so he high tailed out of there and into the crowded streets, blending in with ease. He remembered the female's directions, and followed them silently, plugging in some ear phones and putting his iPod on shuffle. The first song was 'Bat out of hell' by Meatloaf- which, Jason was more than okay with.

Jason was positive he looked like a stalker when he arrived, attempting to rifle through all of the candles and burning sticks looking for a note. But, you know, it wasn't like he could just  _explain_  to them what he was looking for- Jason was positive Tim hadn't befriended any of these guys and asked them to look out for a guy in the middle of a reward less treasure hunt. Don't ask him why, he was just sure of it.

It seemed stupid to Jason, leaving something as flammable as a note near  _fire._  But, well, this was Tim who had devised this, and he seemed like a smart guy, so he must have thought it through at least a little bit.

Just when Jason was tempted to give up, have a break and trot back to the food carts to dine on some simply  _divine_  smelling meat, or maybe even a piece of cheese coated garlic bread, Jason had an epiphany. Well, not really an epiphany, more of a realisation that made him feel like a total idiot.

Tim was a smart guy.  _Of course_  he would never put something as flammable as a note near  _fire_. He was telling Jason to  _follow his nose-_  and his nose was leading him directly to the food stalls!

Turning swiftly around, Jason marched with purpose to the smell of food, completely following his nose. First, his nose took him to the Frankfurters. Nothing. Next, it was to the smell of heated chocolate- milk white Belgium chocolate over bananas and strawberries, yum- but still, nada. Third, the scent of garlic that drove vampires insane, and made Jason's stumble grumble in anticipation. Still, there was not a thing there.

Jason huffed- had he misinterpreted the message? He hoped not; Jason seriously had no more options. Well, there was always tracking Bart down in the hopes he could somehow persuade Tim to give Jason a hint... But he wouldn't stoop that low. Just yet, anyway.

Frowning, he once again did the circuit of the food stalls, searching for anything that might resemble a message from Tim. He didn't find anything, even when he searched the wooden display boards with chalk scribbled all over them.

Jason was growing ever frustrated with this, a long with the fact that  _something_  was bugging him- he just didn't know  _what._ It was driving him crazy.

Whipping out his phone, he shot a quick text to Roy. ' _I am going crazy here!'  
_

Not moments later Roy responded, ' _What's up?'_

_'Tim! Book dude! His clues are impossible!'_

_'Hah. Good luck.'_  Jason cursed. Roy wasn't going to help him- even after he took Lian out for the day, got her off his back so he could finish decorating!

Jason growled incoherently under his breath, stomping over to the edge of the fountain and plopping down. He surveyed the scene before him- the scene that was  _off._  Just slightly, as though someone had come into his house and moved the furniture just two inches to the left. It was that kind of off.

Of course, the scene was perfectly ordinary; people were milling about, talking in fast tongues, foreign tongues, laughing, deep and high. Nothing weird going on. But something was just  _off._

Stands were evenly distributed, as were the crowds around them. Small chalk boards stood outside of almost every stall, with words and prices written on, white against black with a handful of red-

Wait, red?

They shouldn't be red. Jason did a double take, eyes scanning every other board around the place. Every now and then, there was a letter scribbled in red- and then Jason laughed. Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant, he couldn't believe Tim's gall. Had he seriously expected somebody to figure that out? It reminded Jason of that Simpsons episode- the one where Homer;s mother returns, and had left a message for him down the column of a newspaper. Perhaps that was where Tim had gotten his inspiration from. If it was, then great, as that meant they had more common interests - liking similar TV shows was always a bonus.

Grabbing the note book, Jason began scribbling down the letters -and one punctuation mark- he could see.

_R N E A , J  H S E O_

Scribbling some arrows and lines under the letters as he rearranged them, Jason came up with a simple statement:  _Here, Jason._

He knew immediately what it meant. Tim wanted him to go there, and there would have been the 'N', belonging to the word  _Frankfurter_. He scurried over, hands frantically roaming the sign- empty.

Someone tapped his shoulder. Jason looked up, wide eyed, fearing that he had been watched by police or some other type of authority and was now being confronted, because how the hell was he going to explain his behaviour without sounding like some whack job, easy answer, he couldn't.

There was no reason for him to worry, however, as a face he definitely remembered was staring down at him, scarf wrapped around neck and cropped black hair hanging just below the top of it. Cass, from the video store. Tim's sister, whose adoption was celebrated by a family holiday to Egypt.

She held out a slip of paper in between her index and middle finger, whilst her other hand held a pretzel to her mouth.

"Thanks." Jason said, gulping. He wondered how long she had been watching him- there was no doubt that she had, after all. Cass didn't say anything in response, only swallowing her mouthful and nodding, before turning heel and walking off.

> _So how long did it take you to figure this one out?_

Jason glared at the piece of paper. It took a very long fucking time, thank you Timmy.

> _I hope Cass didn't actually help you- I gave her strict orders not to._

Oh, no, Cass didn't help at all. No worries there, Timmy.

> _Don't worry, though. This next part is pretty fast- it involves food, too._

Jason sucked on the back of his teeth with his tongue as he ironed through that part, turning the paper over to see if there was anything extra.

 _Food that was fast, huh.._. Jason frowned. Food fast- wait, no, that didn't sound right- fast food! As in, fast food restaurants! Well, there was only one main fast food restaurant around this part. There were several in total, but Big Johns, KFC, and Burger King were all back in the Bull Ring or just outside- the only one remotely close to the food stalls was McDonalds.

So Jason headed there next.

Inside the restaurant, which was surprisingly full considering the amount of people outside- Jason assumed that it would have been pretty much empty, but he guessed that was the power of Maccy D's, Jason spotted his gift straight away.

Gift, because situated on the lap of the iconic Ronald McDonald, who was sat on a strikingly yellow bench, was a neatly bow tied box- red and black. Jason chuckled, and headed over there. Sure enough, the label had his name scribbled on, in the handwriting he could so easily recognise as Tim's.

Deciding it would be a little weird to sit down on the bench beside the (lovely) Ronald McDonald, Jason chose a vacant table opposite- and ordered a strawberry thick shake and McChicken Sandwich meal, too.

Meal in hand, he opened up the box and pulled out the loose notes of paper first. He read as he ate, trying not to spill lettuce.

>   
> _Did you know this McDonald's is the only one in the city with a statue of Ronald? I remember when they were literally_ everywhere.  _It's such a shame they stopped using him in their promos._  
> 
> 
> _Then again, I guess he is a little creepy. Red hair, white skin, glows in the sunshine- some might speculate that they know what he is._

Jason failed to hold back a groan- honestly, he didn't even try to hold it in. Tim was making  _Twilight_  references. Of all the things he could say regarding Ronald McDonald, he goes for  _Twilight._  Jason could  _not_  believe he was associating with this guy- in fact, it made him want to hurl the book into the nearest bin and set it on fire, watching as the flames made  _his_  face glow. But, alas, he didn't, as that would quite possibly result in him being removed from the store and then some, as well as all the legal implications that would bound and leap after him.

He didn't want any more tarnishes on his record, thank you very much Kyle Rayner.

> _I got us a new notebook. I don't know if you've noticed, but we're almost at the end of that one. (And it's a bit battered.)_

Jason reached into the gift box, and pulled out the new notebook. It was red as well, but a shade or two darker, almost brown. It wasn't one tone, either, sort of going at completely random intervals to both a lighter and darker shade, as though it were sitting in pools of light and shadow. Jason liked it, a lot.

There wasn't anything else on the piece of paper, so he flicked open the book- and sure enough, on the first page, was Tim's handwriting.

> _I figured I'd christen this one- since you wrote the first entry in the last one and everything._

Jason smirked at that- well, it was only fair.

> _Well, now that I have the verification of your existence from more than three sources I trust almost inexplicably, I feel safe enough to tell you about how Bart and I met. This is going to be my little anecdote to you._
> 
> _His cousin is dating my older brother, and they've been together for the last six years. It was pure coincidence that we ended up going to the same high school, as the only times we'd ever interacted were when the pair were babysitting us._
> 
> _The first time that happened, I was about 9, maybe 10, and so was Bart I think- but we were going to the movies. We watched some new superhero movie. My first impression of him wasn't that great._
> 
> _He talked through out the whole of the movie, and ate a ton. When he was quiet, I still couldn't hear what the actors were saying due to his popcorn munching or wrapper rustling. It was so annoying!_
> 
> _The next few meetings were pretty disastrous, and I tried as hard I could to get out of them. Except, the only alternative was to spend time with Damian. I didn't particularly want that, so I opted for gritting my teeth and spending time with Dick and Bart and Wally._
> 
>   
> _Things... got better? I don't know how, maybe Dick had a word with Bart or Bart just picked up on it- the kid has_ amazing _social skills, I'm pretty jealous - and we just, started getting along._  
> 
> 
> _He still talked as much, but he had begun to leave room for some of my input- which was very little, mind you. I don't know, it's a little hard to explain, but we just became friends. Hung out a lot. Then became lab partners in Biology._
> 
> _That's it, I guess. I don't think I have more to say on that subject._

If Tim and Bart were the same age, then that meant Tim was around 16. Good, good, just a year younger than Jason himself. That was okay.

> _My question for you, (and yes, this is a question) is: How are you spending Christmas? Will it be different this year? I hope it is. You deserve a good time, Jason. Happy Holidays._

Jason felt his throat constrict a little there.

> _**PS**  - If meeting Steph was actually something you were really looking forward to- well, sorry to disappoint. She's kind of a handful- like a mini explosion that's not at all mini. I don't really want to put you off._

Tim was being considerate- Jason thought. That was... nice? he guessed, the feeling a little foreign to him. All the same, it made him smile- though he'd deny the flutters in his stomach, if anyone asked. Vehemently deny them.

> _I promise you'll meet her someday, though. ~~Just lik~~ e you'll meet me._

The first part of that latter sentence had been crossed out, as though Tim had instantly regretted what he had written but then changed his mind. Jason liked that- that he felt it right to keep it. Because, yeah, Jason fully intended to meet Tim someday. He just didn't know how or when or why they should or where they could but he did know that the nauseous feeling in his stomach and head was due to all of those questions, and Jason either needed to stop thinking so much into things and get a grip or really, really work hard to figure out the reactions he seemed to be getting from his interactions with Tim, because, honestly?

It felt like he was falling.

And if that wasn't scary, then Jason didn't know what was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jesus do you know how long the intro for that song is but oh man i love it
> 
> i tried to throw a few more reactions in but oh man christmas is nearly here for them and and they're not gonna meet it isn't gonna be a christmas miracle
> 
> (please say someone got the Monty Python reference please)
> 
> also the German Market is brilliant i love it and i love pretzels they're like a God send but some guy is going around injecting people with HIV so I'm not allowed to go at night this year also Monday there was an armed hiest there but over all the market is great I had ostrich burgers


	10. A Rose by Any Other Name

Tim had instructed that Jason leave their new notebook (and the old should he so wish) at the foot of the fire escape outside McDonald's. Unlike the movies, all of the fire escapes that Tim had ever encountered were not spiral, or requiring of a pull down ladder- no, every fire escape that Tim had been fortunate (or unfortunate, if one was to look at it that way) enough to meet, had been rusted and creaky and just a straight set of twenty or so steps, with maybe a flat floor in the middle that resulted in a change of direction and then another twenty or so steps, but only if the building was more than two floors high. Effort, really, Tim believed- especially if one was running from a fire- or a guy with a gun, you know, movie brought to life or something.

He headed there early the next morning, dually noting that, as of that morning, there were only ten days left until Christmas. He wasn't wanting of much this year, except maybe a new laptop. His previous one had more than bit the dust last summer, and though Tim heavily suspected it was Damian's doing, he had no solid proof and so therefore could not pin the blame on him- which was incredibly annoying. He had (almost) lost so many pieces of coursework - which, had Damian been responsible, then Tim  _knew_  that that was the ultimate goal, and it made him extra relieved that Bruce habitually reminded them all to back up their work on external hard drives. It was a miracle.

As expected, the book Tim had bought was waiting for him- though Tim noted, with just a drop of despair, that it was by itself.

> _I love this new journal, by the way. The page design is great- I love the sort of thick paper it is, card but yet not card, makes me want to grab a fountain pen and start writing on it with the blood of my enemies as ink. Tim, get me the fountain pen. I can supply enemies._

Tim snorted. He was not buying Jason a fountain pen, not knowing the intended use. Such devices were too precious. He found it a little hard to believe Jason had enemies, but then again he did seem like a guy of peculiar taste. Perhaps those tastes had resulted in scuffles and physical one-on-ones; Tim couldn't describe how or why, but he got this vibe that maybe Jason was that kind of guy- the kind who liked to settle things with fists and then think of talking the problem out.

> _Regarding our used and clearly outdated baby, (it's like this is the iPhone S and that was the Blackberry Curve), you can have him- if you can find him. Just... 'follow your nose.' *wink wink*_
> 
> _(I'm not sending you to the food or incense stall, by the way. Just to clarify. And that was a brilliant concoction, you evil genius you. I'm not even going to attempt to part that trail.)_

Jason had called him a genius. (And evil, but he ignored that part for now) It made his insides flutter, just a little bit- someone actually valued his time and effort enough to call him a genius, and it was quite flattering. And also very, very endearing. (Come on, first it was 'Aspiring Detective' and now 'Evil Genius'? Bart  _must_  have let slip that Tim had a thing for nicknames. He  _must_  have.)

Tim thought back to where he was told he could locate it. So if Jason wasn't sending Tim to food or smelling candles and hand crafted balsams... Where was he sending him? What else could smell? Well, fish could smell- but the Sea Life Centre was quite far from the German Market, there was no way his nose would be able to lead him there.

Tim thought it over, taking a seat on the edge of the stairs. The metal was cold beneath his trousers, feeling rather damp (though he knew the feature was bone dry, if not for a little condensation and frost) and it sent shivers through his being, causing his knees to knock and teeth to chatter slightly. Yes, December was growing ever colder. Tim was determined not to move from his spot, or indeed read on, until he had figured out Jason's riddle and where he had to go to receive their 'baby'.

Tim liked that- really liked that, that Jason had called the book their baby. It wasn't that he was having some freak paternal feelings over a book he co-wrote with a stranger, it was just that, well, they  _had_  wrote it- every word in that book had been written and inspired by the other. It was a tale of two truths. He was proud.

"Uh, sir?" Tim looked up immediately at the sound of the voice, a little annoyed that someone had bothered to interrupt when they could clearly see he was enthralled within both the pages of the book and the  recesses of his mind. He was about to snap at them, when he realised- it was a McDonald's employee, and they were looking very worriedly at him.

Tim swallowed down his anger, letting out a tight-lipped "Yes?" The employee- a gangly teen of about fifteen, spots everywhere, glasses, the works, seemed to shrink a little. He cleared his throat.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave." That did not sound convincing at all, and Tim just raised an eyebrow in response. He wasn't doing anything wrong, why should he have to- "You're kind of trespassing." Ah.

Tim looked down, as if just noticing that he was still sat at the foot of McDonald's fire escape. Trespassing, he was- and also blocking attempted exit in the event of a fire. Oh dear.

He still hadn't figured out the location.  _Come on, Tim, you're supposed to be an (evil) genius! An aspiring detective! You can do this, easy peasy!_ But, lest he risk a run in the cops, he would have to go. Sighing, Tim got to his feet, dusted off the back of his trousers (though for what reason, he wasn't sure) and headed off, knowing a bench where he could sit that was not too far away.

It wasn't actually a bench, more like a bench high brick wall that surrounded a little plant bay. People, like himself, often used it as a bench, though. He still needed to figure out where he was going, though. Slumping a little, Tim's back nudged against the dwarf conifer. He liked the smell, but he was more partial to pine or lily of the valley- despite its poisonous nature.

Wait just a cotton picking minute.

Tim sniffed, the scent filling his nose. Thank goodness he was alone, because then Tim laughed. Jason was sending him to pseudo-botanical gardens. They weren't as grand as the ones laid down in London, but they were a sight to see. Much better than the pigeon inhabited park on the other side- though Tim would have to walk through that in order to reach it. He shuddered, it meant walking through mass upon mass of skateboarders, goths, police and  _thousands of pigeons._

Well, he wasn't going to get there is he just sat still, was he? Not wishing to hear the death metal music that would be blasting out from some guy's phone, or the screaming that would emit from some female's, Tim plugged in his ear buds. They were just a  _bit_  too heavy for his liking.

What Tim found ironic, though, was the church situated in the middle of the park. He wasn't trying to presume anything about anyone, but most of the park dwellers had satanic pentagrams and worshipped anything  _but_  God. He wasn't sure why they'd wish to chill in front of St. Philips Cathedral, but he guessed maybe all the graves and tombs were appealing benches, or something.

Nevertheless, Tim made it through the park without incident, and found himself surrounded by plants. He wasn't told where he should have looked for the book, but he had an inkling it'd be near the red flowers. It was, and Tim picked it up, brushed off the soil, and put it away. He wasn't quite sure what he'd actually do with it, but he'd think of something.

Now that he had their baby, he could read on. Tim chose a bench (an actual bench this time, wooden and with a plaque on the back rest mentioning some dearly beloved) and sat down, opening the new book to be greeted by Jason's flick filled handwriting.

> _I will be spending Christmas alone, dear Timothy. But I'm guessing that's not what you were asking._

No, that wasn't what Tim was asking.

> _I usually go around to Roy's for dinner- Kory is an amazing cook. They're good company, especially his daughter. She's such an adorable little girl- I'm honoured to be her godfather (and uncle)._
> 
> _I'll probably do the same this year, too, I can't see there being any change. But before dinner- well, you see, I live in an apartment. Technically it's Selina's, as I can't have the deeds moved over until I turn 18 - which isn't too long now! But it's the second floor of a two storied tower- I also rent out the lower basement, but that's mainly for storage. The perks of being on the top floor is that you have access to the roof, which has been turned into a mini botanical gardens. (Which was inspiration for your hunt, you know?)_
> 
> _Selina started growing flowers and all sorts of plants up there not long after I moved in- it was on the recommendation of one of her 'friends' who often stopped by when she wasn't home- her name was Pamela, but she liked to be called Ivy. She was a freak, who absolutely adored plants and everything to do with them. Strangely, we keep in touch. She's the reason I haven't stopped tending to the roof garden; I think she might actually kill me should I ever do that._
> 
> _But I grow irises and this Daphne 'Jacqueline Postill' evergreen and some red Kaffer lilies, along with a breed called Purple Knight (Alternanthera), which all bloom during winter time, so every Christmas morning I pick a bunch and assemble them, and place them on my Mother's grave. Sometimes I sit there for a while, sometimes I don't. It's more often the latter._
> 
> _I'll show you the garden, one day, in the summer- when most of the flowers are bloomed. I don't know if you're into flowers or not, but it's truly beautiful; especially when the sun is just setting. It's a little cold, but that's nothing a blanket and some mugs of hot chocolate can't fix. God knows how many nights I've spent up there in my sleeping bag. Do you like star gazing, Tim? I think I do. I've done it often, yet I can't decide if I like it or not. I find the prospect of space a little daunting, unnerving somewhat. It's just so huge!_

Tim had to agree with Jason on that. Space  _was_  huge, and there was an infinite amount of possible answers to the question 'What's up there, beyond the stars?' because as much as Physics knew, or claimed to know,  _nobody actually did._

No one had ever been up there, seen it for themselves. He could see why the thought of it was so scary- he had to admit that it was more than terrifying to himself. Imagine, being lost in the abyss of space and time- not going forward, or backward, or anywhere because the sky is just so  _dark._  It would be hell, limbo, purgatory.

_Endless._

Maybe... Just maybe, stargazing was something he'd like to do with Jason. Maybe it would be fun for the two of them. Before Tim knew it, he was smiling- and promptly stopped when he realised. One just did not smile randomly in public by oneself- no, no that was weird. People were giving him odd looks.

> _I'm assuming you spend your Christmas with your family, right? Do you have any traditions? Like, I don't know, having one of those family advent calenders where each day a different child gets to pick out the chocolate. Or maybe you open your gifts one present at a time, and it takes hours to get through because every member has to open all of theirs, say their thanks and so on before you move onto the next person. Or, or, maybe you have a Christmas breakfast and forego the turkey, or maybe you're a family of vegetarians, or something. Do you do anything remotely like that?_

Tim was laughing through out that, the ridiculous image of Cass and Bruce striving to survive on nothing but vegetables. They'd starve within a week, Tim was sure of it! When his chuckles died down, he sat quiet for a few moments, contemplating how to respond. Sure, they had traditions, but didn't every family? Even something as trivial as waking up first and therefore waking everybody else could be seen as a tradition.

"Hey, Tim!" Tim's brow furrowed as the calling cut through his contemplation; he didn't recognise the voice nor, as he looked toward the voice, the white haired girl walking toward him. The girl, who was probably a few years older than Tim, was wrapped up in a fitted beige trench coat that was tied at the waist. "You're Tim, right?" She sat beside him, not sparing him a glance, and Tim noticed the black rope that wrapped around her skull, the oval covering her eye. She had an eye patch. Oh.

Tim nodded, a little off guard. Just who  _was_  this girl?

"You're going to have speak verbally, kid, because I kid of  _can't see_ if you nod or not." She stated frankly, still staring straight ahead. Tim cleared his throat, a little faintly. Okay, he was more than intimidated now.

"Uh, yes, yeah, I'm Tim, that's me," And, oh God, he was blabbering. Yep, definitely intimidated by this one eyed girl.

"Good." She said, and turned to smile at him. Her one blue eye seemed to shine- maybe with friendliness, maybe with the promise of vengeance and a bloodthirsty death that left Tim wishing he had never been born- Tim just couldn't tell. "Well, have a nice day, Tim."

And then she just- got up and left, leaving Tim staring incredulously at her growing ever smaller figure.

It took about three seconds for Tim to decide to shoot up, and run after her. "Wait!" He called, coming to a stop beside her. She looked at him, eyebrow raised. "Who are you?" Tim asked, panting maybe just a little - it was cold, excuse him for not being the most athletically fit during winter!

Her lips curled up a little, just enough for Tim to notice a faint scar running down the edge of her bottom lip, and another emerging from the underlay of the patch. He shuddered inwardly, hoping it didn't show. He wondered how it had happened.

"Rose." She answered, mouth still smiling. And then, "You want to know what happened." Tim was caught off guard- was it really that obvious?

"Yes. Wait- no, maybe-" She cut him off, and Tim thanked the heavens when it was with a laugh and not a slap. Her eye had closed during her laugh, and now it opened again.

"Just a stupid accident when I was a kid, ask Jason if you really want the details." Tim froze, eyes wide, mouth open slightly.

"Jason," He mouthed, and the two must be connected, he must have spoken to her about Tim, or mentioned, or something, and Jason had only ever mentioned two girls, Artemis and her girlfriend- and then it clicked. "You're Artemis's girlfriend!" He blurted out, before he could even think it through properly.

It was Rose's turn to look a little surprised, and sound a little bewildered. "Yes."

"Right, did they send you or something?" Well, at least Tim sort of knew who she was. He knew Jason owed her pizzas, at any rate, and her girlfriend was a nice woman.

"Oh, no, they don't know I'm here. This is just a coincidence." Tim thought  _he_  was a bad liar, but then, Rose wasn't lying, but she  _was_ , except- she wanted Tim to know this wasn't a coincidence. And that no, they didn't know she was here, and they probably  _shouldn't_  know she was here, but she was telling Tim because she wanted to make him  _afraid_.

Tim gulped. "O-okay," He faltered, "Then why are you here?" Rose shrugged,

"Just wanted to make sure I knew what your face looked like." And if that wasn't the weirdest comment Tim had ever received, he didn't know what  _was._  Rose smiled again, then, and turned away, beginning her departure.

Tim could say nothing, because that sounded a  _lot_  like a threat. Instead, he just stood silently, watching as she raised the back of her hand toward him in a half-wave. Well, fearful event of the day number 2. Still, Tim needed to reply to Jason. He didn't, however, want to remain in the park where Rose could still be lingering. Call him paranoid, whatever, he just didn't feel like it was a good idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, yeah, this is gonna have at least 5 more chapters because NEW YEAR and so i think maybe a tag (for those who read on my [Tumblr](http://cruciomysoul.tumblr.com)) would be a good idea? then you can keep track of it and i have created on called **194101**
> 
> how i described pigeon park was 100% accurate look:
> 
> <http://www.bbc.co.uk/birmingham/content/articles/2007/04/13/emo_feature.shtml>


	11. Hakuna Matata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of those questions was not like the rest. He disregarded it, though, for now. Jason frowned, thinking over the other questions fully: how _would_ he feel? He didn't know. That wasn't a question he could answer, he didn't think. But he could try to, so that's what he did, taking note of the fact Tim wanted this left at the Ice Rink, before turning the page and beginning to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr tag: **194101**

The first words that greeted Jason were not the ones he was expecting. Having picked up their second child from a neighbouring florist, Jason had travelled home and was perched on the steps leading up to the roof. He had the door shut, and his back against one wall, feet against the other.

It was an entirely private location; no windows, the doors on either end locked by a key that he possess the only copy of (except maybe the landlord had a copy, but Jason wasn't even sure who that was, or even if they were alive, or bothered to check up on the housing. They weren't very reliable. If he thought about it, Jason could never recall anybody ever coming, even when Selina was still there. Perhaps- maybe Selina was the landlord. That would explain one way she got all their money, but if so- who was Jason renting the garage off?)

 

>  
> 
> _Hi, Tim here, just asking who this one-eyed Rose is and is she a hit-man? Also are you responsible for her lack of vision because she heavily implied that you were and not to offend any eye gauging psychopaths out there, I just don't think we can continue our friendship if you do happen to be one of said eye gauging psychopaths. It's probably not good for my health. Sorry._

Jason was not an eye gauging psychopath; of that, he was fairly certain. He was, however, a little annoyed with a certain white, one eyed Alfather. Jason sighed, pulling out his phone. He tapped 'New Message' and begun constructing one for dear old Rosie.

 _'Rose',_ he typed, ' _Why does Tim think you're a hit-man?'_  Jason hit send, waiting for a reply that he knew would be prompt.

 _'Who's Tim?'_  She replied, and then a second message later, ' _Is he your sandy cat?'_

Jason rolled his eyes; Rose knew exactly who Tim was and who he wasn't. ' _That's Timon. Rose, I'm being serious.'_ He waited a few moments for her (as usual) fast response.

_'Okay, fine, so I saw him walking about with your journal, so I figured I'd go introduce myself. And if he happens to think me a hit-man, then, that's his problem.'_

Jason growled in defeat. ' _God damn it, Rose',_ he typed back, pocketing his device. He wouldn't receive another reply from her, so there was no point in waiting for one. He went back to reading the journal, hoping the revelation of Jason's potential psychopathy hadn't put the lad off. It hadn't, apparently.

 

>  
> 
>   
> _I am, however, going to give you the benefit of the doubt and continue writing. It would be terribly presumptuous of me to assume you an eye gauging psychopath with no concrete evidence, and to cease contact with you over something so trivial would be ludicrous. (If you are, though, please stop reading, burn this journal, and never contact me again. But only if.) (Also, how_ did _that happen, by the way? She said you'd give me the details, so spill.)_

Okay, Jason  _had_  to snort. Tim was being deliberately snotty, mimicking God knows how many voices of old with his style of writing, his emphasis, even the way he had slightly italicised his hand written words. But, alas, Tim wanted  _that_  story. If anything, it was pretty cringe worthy. Totally embarrassing, and not his brightest of moments. Still, they  _had_  lived through the ordeal- so surely, it wasn't that bad? Nonetheless, he would indulge Tim's wishes, and share the tale when he came to write a reply.

 

>  
> 
> _Yes, my family has a tradition. Several, actually. Doesn't everyone, though? In some form, at least. Don't worry, we're not weird enough to eat a Christmas breakfast. Though, Dick does cook a full English for everybody- Bruce is seriously the world's worst cook._
> 
>   
> _Bruce likes us adopted kids to 'stay true to our roots'. The first tradition takes place on Christmas Eve. We tell ghost stories, and this is what Dick brought to the family. He's originally from Romania, I think- he travelled a lot in his youth. I don't think he ever stayed in one place for longer than six months. He says that this is something him and his folks, and their troupe took great pleasure in. It_ is _pretty entertaining, especially as the tales get more and more outlandish._

That was a little odd, but hey, if it's what the guy grew up with, then who was he to judge? It struck Jason then that this Bruce character must have been exceptionally good- adopting all those kids, giving them a home, and treating them as no less than equal to his own children.

 

>  
> 
> _Damian isn't adopted, so he doesn't really 'bring' anything. (I know, I know, it's shocking how Bruce could spawn such a devilish being as he, personally I blame the mother.)_

Jason snorted, once again thinking just how lucky Tim was to have found a guy so great sounding as Bruce was.

 

>  
> 
> _But Damian is always the first to rise, every single morning. Christmas is no exception, so he makes it his duty to send Titus on a rampage through the house to wake everybody up. I swear, he hides treats in all our rooms in places only the dog can reach. It's infuriating, I mean, do you know just how much a Great Dane weighs, and how exceedingly terrifying it is to wake up to one on your chest, its teeth bared and face looming above._

The beauty of cats, that was. They could never weigh so much that they squished you. (They could, however, claw your face into consciousness, and Jason will forever be waking up to scratches and blood trickling down every ounce of his body. Despite how hard he tries to get the little tykes out of his bedroom, it never works.)

 

>  
> 
> _Next is Cass. She's from France. Though she is fluent in both languages, she draws the most comfort from her native language. It's so lovely to hear her speak; so vastly different from the rapid fire shots that Dick seems to spit out whenever he speaks his mother tongue. We say our Christmas prayers in French before we eat- though none of us are religious, Cass was raised in a Catholic orphanage, and we don't mind speaking the words, so there's no harm in it._

Now Jason understood the reasoning for the book she was reading in the DVD and video rental store, and why she seemed to speak only rarely and when it suited her.

 

>  
> 
> _I don't really add anything tradition wise. I'm not from some far off land, I don't speak any other language besides Dick's and Cass's, and I'm not the first to rise._
> 
> _The last tradition is pretty unspoken, like we all took some oath the minute he died to honour him in every way possible, mutually agreeing that this was one such way._
> 
> _We used to have a 'cook' - he was basically a glorified babysitter for when it was physically impossible for Bruce to escape work. He lived in the house, and was there even before I - I think he came with Dick, when Bruce adopted him, but maybe even before that, I don't really know, but he was very old - and so he did all of the cooking._

Tim was starting to sound like a rich kid. Humble, but rich. The funny thing was, Jason wasn't even jealous about the kid's upbringing. Had this been a year or two or seven ago, he most definitely would have been. But right then in his life, Jason was content. Happy, even. He liked what he had, loved the way he lived.

 

>  
> 
> _He refused to do house work, though. Said that was something we ought to do on our own. He passed away a couple of years ago, and we've had to kind of fend for ourselves ever since. (Bruce refuses to replace him- I can't blame him. I didn't know him as long as Dick or Damian or Bruce, but Alfred was one the most genuine men I had ever been fortunate enough to meet.)_
> 
> _Okay, so this is going to sound a little morbid, I guess- but when we have our meal, and it's always at 4 on the dot, as it would be when Alfred cooked it, we set out an extra place for Alfred. We don't put food on his plate, but we have the cracker and the spoon and the fork and knife, wine glass, even the hat and the joke and the plastic toy are placed on his plate once the cracker has been pulled._
> 
> _That's our final tradition, our way of honouring him and the service he did for us. I think Christmas is probably the time we miss him most._

That was incredibly sad. Jason blinked a couple times. Never in his life had Jason had a father figure, lest one was to count Roy's father- but then again, Ollie wasn't particularly great, but he did  _try._  So he couldn't really understand the way Tim must feel about this, how the loss must have hurt him, but he tried. He tried to think of Lian, and how much it would pain her to lose her father. He could imagine that, knowing how much the little girl adored Roy and Kory.

 

>  
> 
> _I want to know how you're feeling right now. How you felt when you woke up. _How many pizzas you delivered this week._ How you're going to feel when you go to bed this night, and how you're going to wake up feeling on Christmas morning._

One of those questions was not like the rest. He disregarded it, though, for now. Jason frowned, thinking over the other questions fully: how  _would_  he feel? He didn't know. That wasn't a question he could answer, he didn't think. But he could try to, so that's what he did, taking note of the fact Tim wanted this left at the Ice Rink, before turning the page and beginning to write.

He went to bed later that night, intent on leaving the journal for Tim in the morning.

* * *

 

"Come on, man," Jason mumbled, coming to rather reluctantly as the incessant ringing of his phone drilled through his skull. It was his day off, and he did not want to be woken up at- 8:13, oh Christ. Glaring at his phone as he snatched it off the bedside table, he spared the called ID a scathing glance as he swiped to answer it and placed it by his ear.

"Fuck off, Roy," He hissed immediately.

"Jason-" Roy's voice was cutting off and transmitting in fragments, as though he was in a place with little to no signal. It was alarming, to say the least.

"Roy?" He asked, voice filled with caution.

"We're at City Hospital. It's Lian," Roy must have gone outside, as the signal had improved greatly. He could hear wind through the phone. The statement made Jason sit up right, instantly worried. Before he could question, however, Roy continued, "She slipped on some ice, we're not sure what's broken yet and they think she may have a concussion, but she needs stitches and-" Roy was speeding up his speech, and Jason was struggling to keep up just like Roy was struggling to catch his breath.

"Roy! Roy, clam down, okay, deep breaths," Roy obeyed, and Jason could hear him inhaling and exhaling through the speaker. "Do you want me to come down?" There was silence for a few moments, before Roy answered,

"Yeah, yes, please." Jason nodded,

"All right, I'll be there in a few moments." Jason spared now time in scrambling out of bed, throwing on some clothes and his boots and backing his bike out of the garage, red helmet glinting in the sun that provided no heat but plenty of blinding light.

The engine roared into life, and he took to the roads, taking a direct route to the hospital. He weaved in and out of traffic, taking the islands as fast he could without crashing, always checking to make sure. The roads would be too icy soon for his bike, so he resolved to go (very) late Christmas shopping for himself and buy a sturdier pair of winter boots.

He reached the hospital in what seemed to him like record time, finding Roy outside, cigarette in mouth. "I thought you quit." Jason stated, leaves crunching underfoot as he made his way over.

"I did." Roy confirmed, taking the filter out of his mouth and crushing it against the wall, letting the bud fall into a plant pot. "They help with stress," Roy added, as if to justify his reason for picking the habit back up again. Jason just hummed, otherwise walking beside him in silence as Roy lead the way up to where Lian was.

"They want to keep her overnight." Roy murmured as they neared the door to the floor. Jason let out a lengthy breath,

"Jesus. That bad?" Roy just shrugged. He wasn't the person to ask about severity; he wasn't a doctor, a medical professional. He had no idea.

The little girl was lying in a bed, Kory beside her, arm wrapped around her fragile looking shoulders. She looked up when they came back in, and there was already a bruise forming across the middle of her face. Jason let out a low whistle. She looked like she'd been clobbered in the face, kicked by a horse's shoe or something. He shared an incredulous glance with Roy, before turning back to Lian.

"Hey, there," He said, going over and kneeling beside her. She followed Jason with her face, smiling. There was a tooth missing, and- and Jason couldn't help it. He had to laugh, but stifled it immediately, turning it into a hacking cough. Lian didn't notice, but he could feel the ferocious glares from both parties. He cleared his throat, as Lian spoke.

"Hi Uncle Jay," Reaching a hand out, Jason smoothed the hair away from her face.

"Can't leave you alone for two minutes, can I?" He joked, and Lian tried to giggle, but he saw how much it must have made her head swirl for she stopped before it could escalate further than a couple of breaths.

Jason had seen a few broken noses in his time, and he was positive that Lian's was pretty broken. Her arm was bundled by her side, but Roy said they wouldn't be x-raying that until later this evening due to the queue of other injured patients- no doubt ones who had suffered similarly. The blood had been cleaned off, at least, and the stitches put in place, but that was about all they had done so far.

The four of them didn't really say much between Jason's arrival and Lian's carting off to the radiology department, with which only Kory accompanied her to. That left Roy and Jason alone, sat side by side in uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room.

"I swear," Roy huffed, after Kory and Lian had been gone for around eight minutes, "She loves you over me."

"She probably does," Jason quipped, smug. He had to laugh at the way Roy's entire body seemed to grow rigid in offence, eyes flashing. "I'm kidding, Roy! She's probably really scared, and her head is no doubt muddled up, so she's going to want all the comfort she can get. I may be her favourite Uncle-"

" _Only_  Uncle." Roy interjected as a mutter, and Jason rolled his eyes,

"Okay, her  _only_  Uncle, but I'm definitely not her favourite parent. That's you, hands down." It seemed to reassure Roy a bit, so he relaxed. "She's not going to look so great in the family photos this Christmas, you know."

Roy groaned, his head falling like dead weight into his hands. "Dinah is going to kill me." He mumbled, and Jason snickered. He knew how evil Dinah was under that kind exterior. She truly was a force to be reckoned with, especially when it came to her children. The first time Roy had came home with bruises was bad enough, and now her precious granddaughter- well, Jason certainly didn't want to be there for that.

"Remind me to come to yours  _after_  Dinah and Ollie have arrived this time." Roy elbowed him in the side, grumbling.

Not long after, Lian and Kory came back into view, hand in hand. There was now a plaster covering her nose- they'd sorted that out for her, at least. It was a shame that she'd forever have a bump on it, though. Jason just hoped it didn't get too noticeable.

"Well," Kory relayed to them, "Her nose is definitely broken, as is her right arm. The wrist on her left is sprained and there's some bruising on her chest. Other than that, she's completely fine, aren't you sweetie?" Lian nodded, taking Roy's hand in her free one.

"Yep," She chirped, and then Jason saw the lollipop stick in Kory's hand. The nurses had rewarded her for her good behaviour. They walked back to her floor, and Jason took the time to notice all the other patients within. They were all children, some with legs suspended, others with bandages covering faces, wrapped around heads, the works. Not one child sat alone, for which Jason was extremely glad. There were even a couple sporting worse looks than Lian, which was, frankly, a little surprising.

Lian settled down into her bed, Kory tucking her in and climbing on top of the sheets beside her, much like she had before they went down. Roy took the chair nearest her, retaking her hand. Lian looked at Jason expectantly, who raised his eyebrows at her.

"You'll stay as well, won't you Uncle Jay?" Lian's voice was questioning, worried, and Jason felt a small, soft smile stretch on his face.

"Yeah, 'course." He nodded as Lian grinned, taking the extra chair at the foot of her bed. Roy and Kory smiled in gratitude, but Jason paid them no mind, only watching Lian, as her eyes slipped shut and her breath evened out- but she was breathing loudly through her mouth, since her nose wasn't working too good. Still, it wasn't as bad as snoring.

Jason didn't get a chance to leave his reply for Tim for another three days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a warning the next chapter is filled with so many pop culture references it's ridiculous maybe i'll post it in the morning


	12. The First Rule of Fight Club Is...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim was grasping at straws. He couldn't make it two steps on the ice in skates without falling flat on his ass. At least in just his trainers, he had something akin to balance- or trusted shoes, at the very least.

When Tim went to the Ice Rink, expecting to find Bette there holding his notebook captive, he was severely disappointed. He let it slide, though, because maybe Jason's real life had taken hold for a moment, and he had ran out of time. It would be there by tomorrow.

It wasn't there by tomorrow. Tim frowned, and Bette was of little help. "I'm sure he'll deliver it soon." She said, helping some child tie the laces of his skates. Tim found it odd how a child could skate with perfect balance, yet not know how to tie his own laces.

The third day since Tim has first imagined the book to be there was even more disappointing. There was nothing there, no guy had come in with a book, and Bette was adamant that she had thoroughly checked out every guy for possible signs of book keeping. He wrung his hands together, and dauntingly realised that the emotion he was feeling was fear.

There were only two possibilities as to why there was no book there. 1) Someone else had picked it up before him. He ruled this out, however, because he was positive that no one would, and Bette had insisted that no book had ever been delivered anywhere. He believed Bette.

Therefore, there was only actually  _one_  possibility. Jason was indeed an eye gauging psychopath and had heeded Tim's message of not contacting him. Oh, no. He'd shared his life with an eye gauging psycho. He'd got on the the hit list of the eye gauging psycho's friend. Oh, oh shitting bollocks, he'd made Cass a target too. And Kon. And Bart. Oh, oh this was not good!

Taking a deep breath, he resolved himself to come and check back tomorrow. There was no harm in one more day, and then that would be the decider. He would move on. Ignore the crushing feeling in his chest, the weight that felt so suffocating it was like Piene forte et dure.

He wasn't in high spirits as he entered the Ice Rink on the fourth day, refusing to let himself have hope. This was just his luck. He finally meets a guy whom he very, very much could definitely fall for, and- and they turn out to be an eye gauging psychopath. A waste of time, a shatter-er of hearts.

"You're in luck," Bette said in lieu of greeting, holding up a pair of ice skates. "Some extremely frazzled dude came in late last night just before we closed. He apologised profusely, muttering something about eyes, and then ran out onto the ice. I thought he was a lunatic, and was about to call security, until I realised what he had in his hand." She thrust the skates at Tim, who fumbled with them, trying not to drop them onto the floor. Against his will, a swell of hopeful butterflies fluttered around his stomach. He let out a heavy breath that felt so much like relieve it could have sounded like a girl's giggle for all Tim knew.

He just- Jason had had  _every_  intention of returning the journal, then. He must have just been running late. Oh, Tim felt like cheering. Or even kissing Bette. He didn't do either, though, because a) that would have been awkward and b) he didn't really want to drop the finger slicing shoes in his hands and risk cutting somewhere with them.

"The journal was in his hand, and he's put it under the tree in the middle. I'm assuming he wants you to go and retrieve it, so those are some skates in your size."

Tim froze, a horrified expression on his face. "W-what?" He spluttered, unable to fully get any words out. Jason had to be shitting him! "B-but I, I can't ice skate- I don't know how, are these really necessary? Can't I just run over like he did?" Tim was grasping at straws. He couldn't make it two steps on the ice in skates without falling flat on his ass. At least in just his trainers, he had something akin to balance- or trusted shoes, at the very least.

Bette snorted, "No, you can't. Strap up, Timmy, because you have to go for a skate. Don't worry," She added, "We don't officially open for another half hour. You'll be by yourself on the ice, no one to see you epically fail. No one except me, of course."

"Bette!" Tim's elated mood had promptly vanished. He felt just a little bit sick. But, well, he had no other choice. Taking his shoes off, he replaced them with the skates. He didn't have a problem tying the laces. He did, however, have a problem with balance. He kept his hand on the wall as he clip-clopped over to the rink, taking deep breaths through his mouth.

He wished he had worn gloves, for he knew the ice would be cold on his finger tips when he inevitably fell. One step on the ice. Two steps. Perhaps he shouldn't walk, and should, in the usual custom,  _skate._  So that was what Tim tried- emphasis on the  _tried._

He couldn't skate. Really, really could not skate, and this was pointless, fervently pointless. He was giving it a go, at least! After scrambling from his knees to his feet, still hanging onto the wall, Tim knew he would soon have to let go and try to get to the tree in the middle.

Taking a deep breath in through his nose, Tim steeled himself for the oncoming impact, and let go of the wall. It went surprisingly well. For, like, a second, and then Tim lost his balance, almost did the splits in the most painful way, and skidded on his knees. Coming to a halt, feeling the growing wet patches of the ice all up his body, Tim groaned. He couldn't skate. Jason was torturing him. That was it. He wasn't an eye gauging psychopath, no, he was just a plain old torture.  _Fuck you, Jason; fuck you and your methods of torture. I will not let you win._

No, Tim most definitely would not let him win. He had to get across this ice- and if he couldn't  _skate_ , well, he could most definitely  _crawl._ So that was exactly what he did; he crawled the rest of the way, to the grassy island in the middle that housed the decorated conifer.

He spotted the book straight away. There was a note attached to the front of the book, and even as Tim picked it up, he was still very much on edge about what it would say.

 

>  
> 
>   
> _Okay, so I know how this makes me sound and everything, but I_ **PROMISE** _you that I am not an eye gauging psychopath. An emergency came up, and I had to spend a couple nights in hospital. That's it. Sorry._

Tim relaxed quite tremendously. Jason wasn't an eye gauging psycho. He believed that. The journal in his hand was proof enough. Spending a few nights in hospital sounded like a legit excuse. Anything could have happened, Tim didn't know-

Tim didn't know. Anything could have happened. Jason could have been in a car accident. Could have had a limb amputated. Been diagnosed with a serious and life threatening condition.

 

>  
> 
> _Hello Timothy, your old pal Jason here, who is decidedly not an eye gauging psychopath. No worries there, old chum. But you want to know about the Jenna thing? Well, it's kind of a funny story._

Oh, Tim had indeed worried. Grown frantic, even. It was clear to Tim that this had been written prior to the hospitalised emergency.

 

> _Let me tell you something about Kyle Rayner. We were best friends in middle school. I know, right? It's so embarrassing. I don't even... Whatever. So when we turned about 13/14, Rose, Kyle, Roy and I discovered we were pretty angry teens._ _We're still all a little angry, but Roy and I have calmed down a bit now. Rose not so much, but she's coping. Artemis helps her, a lot. No one mentions Kyle Rayner any more. He got too obsessed with me, and I was like, 'Why are you so obsessed with me?'_

> _This was entirely Kyle's doing, but Rose and I thought it would be brilliant to join a Fight Club. Obviously, we dragged Roy (and Kyle) along. It was all right; fun, even. We let off some steam, made a few tight friendships, and evaded the cops._
> 
> _And as they say, it's all fun and games until somebody loses an eye._

> _It was kind of maybe a teensy little bit my fault, because I made her an offer she couldn't refuse. I bet her she couldn't beat some beef cruncher, and, well, she's never backed down from a challenge. She doesn't give in, either, and next thing we know, she's practically Odin and on her way to Valhalla. The only things missing were Ganglir and her two ravens._

Tim was a little shocked at how easily Jason seemed to make light of such a serious topic. But if it had happened as long ago as it sounded it had, he guessed all involved parties had had time to adjust. Rose certainly didn't seem to hold it against him- so that meant Tim shouldn't. Besides, he had no right to; this occurred long before they came within contact. It had absolutely nothing to do with him, now that he had established Jason wasn't out to gauge his eyes.

He was curious about this Kyle Rayner, though. He was sure Jason had mentioned the guy before, and their relationship clearly wasn't close- especially not if he was referring to himself as Regina George and Kyle as Janis Ian.

What amused Tim, however, was how Jason had seemed to slip in so many TV show and movie references. He counted six in the first five paragraphs; that was impressive. Anyone else, he thought, would have been incredibly annoyed. And Tim wasn't a geek, (God, how he  _loathed_  that word), but he could appreciate a reference full sense of humour- when the references were reliable, relevant and, of course, hilarious. He carried on reading.

 

> _How am I feeling right now? Well, as I write this, honestly- I'm a little terrified. Of your reaction._

Tim frowned; Jason had nothing to be afraid of. What did Jason have to be afraid of?

 

> _I'm scared this is going to turn you away from me. And I don't like the idea of that. I know, it's crazy and totally stupid, but I feel like we've gotten to know each other so well over these last couple of days. And I like you, and -not to blow on my own trumpet- I'm pretty sure you like me, too. Platonically, at the very least. But I don't want to turn you away over some stupid accident that happened oh so many years ago. It's left her with a semi-permanent disfigurement (not having a replacement is entirely Rose's decision, she could so easily have the operation to restore her sight), and I feel pretty bad about that, but it was so, so stupid when I was so, so stupid._

> _I'm terrified because I don't want you to hate me, or turn away, or think less of me, or whatever- I just don't want things to change._

Tim knew without thinking about it that he couldn't resent Jason for it. He'd done stupid things in his youth (never caused grievous body harm, though, or gotten a criminal record. But he heavily suspected Jason may have done both.), and so he couldn't hold it against Jason. Didn't want to hold it against him- like he'd thought about earlier, it had nothing to do with him.

 

> _When I woke up this morning, I was excited, because I knew I'd get to read your response. Again, that sounds stupid, doesn't it? But I like the anticipation, and I like writing to you, and I like hearing about your life. It makes me happy. ~~You make me happy.~~_

The last four words had been crossed out, but Tim could still read them. It was like Jason hadn't meant to cross them out, but did anyway, just for the sake of it. It made the breath catch in his throat slightly, and his hand falter in turning the page. Jason made him happy, too. He couldn't deny that.

 

> _I'm not sure if this is a serious question or not, but I have delivered 17 pizzas this week, and tomorrow is my day off. I don't have any plans, but I might go for a stroll._

> _When I go to bed tonight, I hope I'll be happy. I hope I'll be happy on Christmas morning, too. I'd like to say that I won't be alone on either occasions, but I know that I will be. It doesn't bother me, though, because I have the day time to fill with friends and company._

That was still sad; at least, Tim thought it to be. The night is always loneliest, and always the cosiest. He remembered snuggling up on the sofas with Dick and Steph and Bruce, with Damian somewhere, and then Cass, too. Even Alfred took the night off, after much begging, and sat with them. They used to play boardgames, like Cluedo or Monopoly. (Though the latter was only preferred by Damian, who seemed to take delight in crushing everybody's dreams of getting the biggest housing estates and hotels, capturing all the train stations and being the Robin Hood of self prosperity.

He thought it would be nice if he could introduce Jason to that family setting. So he wouldn't be alone. Being just five days before the big day, Tim didn't think that would be such a great idea. Maybe next year, when they knew each other in person. Or maybe he could come around for New Year's. That was another five after Christmas, plenty of time. He figure out a way to include Jason, though; he was sure of it.

 

> _Time for me to ask you something now, isn't it? I kind of want to draw away from the Christmassy feel for a little bit. Tell me about an event. Like, a class trip that was significant because a tyre popped or some students got lost. Anything, you know, that's significant to you._

The colour of the ink had changed to match the colour of the note on the front, so Tim knew this was also a new addition.

 

> _I was going to send you on some wild goose chase, but I'm not quite feeling up to it any more. Just hand this back to either Roy or Kory in Waterstones (Kory is also a redhead, by the way. She's the pretty of the two.)_

This promptly reminded Tim that he had to find out what had happened. He didn't want to pry (that was a lie, he totally did), but he had to know if Jason was all right. He could always go and visit Bart, find out from him if Jason was on sick leave- but the thought of going in the shop, and potentially seeing an injured guy and knowing, just  _knowing_  that it was Jason... Well, Tim didn't know what would happen if that occurred. Would the magic disappear? The veil of unknown mystery dissipate, leaving a cold mist in its wake?

Tim would have to think about how he could respond to his question. He didn't want to just tell Jason anything. He wanted to be open with him- it was only fair, after all Jason had shared with him. First, though, he had to reassure Jason that there was no reason to be terrified. Tim didn't think any less of him- Tim didn't think  _anything_  could make him think less of him.

Before that, however, he had to get off the ice. He could see on the clock above the rink that it was nearing opening time. Grimacing, he unzipped his jacket and shoved the book inside (his pockets were too small, and it kind of sucked), and begun the long crawl back.

Bette was waiting for him at the reception desk, eyebrows raised. "Not a word." He muttered, pulling at the laces and handing them back to her. Bette laughed, exchanging the skates for his shoes.

"I can teach you how to skate," She offered, taking a seat beside him. Tim grimaced again.

"No, thank you." He declined, tying the last of his laces. "As elegant as the sport looks, I really do not think it's for me." Better shrugged,

"Whatever you say, Timmo."

"You can't just call me Tim?" He asked, giving her a sparing glance. Bette laughed, shaking her head and returning to her post behind the desk.

"Sorry, baby." Tim rolled his eyes, standing. "Open up the rope on your way out, will you? Let the crowds know we're open for business." Tim nodded, waving in goodbye and doing exactly as instructed. The crowds poured in after Tim opened the rope, and he lost himself in the sea of people, becoming yet another unfamiliar face in the crowd of Christmas holiday patrons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I'd like to end this before Christmas... and I'd also like to get back to doing a chapter a day, but I can't see any of those happening just yet! (And this story has so many hits, thank you guys!)


	13. Pandora's Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew the feeling all too well, how the realisation of them meeting at any given moment was utterly terrifying and fascinating and mind reeling, nausea inducing, heart racing and bewildering.

_"You smell," she began, slowly and wonderingly, "like-"_

_"Like a herring!" I said bitterly. My cheeks were hot now and very red; there were tears, almost, in my eyes. I think she saw my confusion and was sorry for it.  
"Not at all like a herring," she said gently."But perhaps, maybe, like a mermaid..." _ Jason stopped reading when he heard the click of the lock and the front door opening, checking to make sure Lian hadn't been woken up by the front door.

It had taken a good few hours to convince Roy that it was safe to leave Lian with Jason whilst the two worked, as he knew he couldn't call her grandparents whilst she was in her current state, and it wasn't as if Roy didn't have to to work- Roy did, Kory did, Jason did. They just all had different shifts, and it so happened, Jason's wasn't at the same time as their's.

He heard Kory dump her coat on the banister - it was definitely Kory, Roy would never have been so quiet - and so closed his book, shifting it so it was out of view.  _Tipping The Velvet_  probably wasn't the best choice of books to read in the presence of a child, but hey, the girl was asleep, so she couldn't read over his shoulder and learn words far too old for her young ears.

Kory rounded the door frame into the living room, smiling at the sight. She placed her bag on the spare seat, rifling through it for something.

"She wasn't any trouble, was she?" Jason chuckled, ruffling Lian's sleeping hair.

"Of course not. She never is, you know." Kory smiled, nodding a little.

"I know. Here," She held out the diary for him. "He's quite a looker, if I do say so myself." Jason smiled, bemusedly, taking it off of her but keeping it closed.

"Yeah? Red head?" Kory pursed her lips,

"Not saying," There was cheek in her voice, "But  _those eyes_." Her face actually twinkled. Yeah,  _twinkled._  Jason felt more than a little miffed that Kory  _knew_ , but wasn't  _saying-_  but she still had the  _gall_  to hint! Kory snickered, "Oh, the look on your face, Jason!"

Jason rolled his eyes, willing himself not to blush. "Shut up," He muttered, extracting himself from being Lian's pillow as softly as he could, not wishing to wake her.

The two meandered into the kitchen, Jason making them both a cup of tea. He'd make coffee, but he honestly couldn't stand the taste or smell. It was pretty horrible, and he had no idea how Roy could adore it so much.

"So," Kory began, warming her hands around the mug. They sat at opposite ends of the table, the journal in between them- but far, far closer to Jason than to Kory and her itching fingers.

"So what?" Jason replied, taking a sip. He didn't mind the fact that it scolded his tongue, or that it wasn't quite sweet enough for his liking. Tea was tea, in the end, hot or not hot, sweet or just plain. It was tea. Jason just liked tea.

"So who is this guy that's got you blushing like a school girl?" And then Jason choked, the tea having gone down the wrong hole and leaving him a spluttering mess. He coughed a couple times, trying to dislodge the lump until he could breath (and speak) properly.

"I was not blushing like a school girl!" He hissed, and Kory cracked up laughing again.

"Oh, you were!" She gushed, hands coming together in a sort of silent clap, remaining in a prayer position. "Just like you are now!" Jason could feel himself going red, but still tried to deny the accusations. Kory was having none of it. "No, no way are you getting out of this, Jason Peter Todd. I want to know,  _Roy_  knows!"

Jason had to snort- she was playing the 'left out friend' card. "Roy's your partner." Jason observed, and then continued when he got no response other than a blank stare. "So I know he's already told you."

"He has not!" Jason raised an eyebrow, not taking her exclamation was the truth.

"Like fuck he hasn't," He spat out, lacking any venom. It kind of sounded like a bark of laughter. "I know Roy, and I know  _you_ , you pest. I know you've badgered it out of him, somehow." Kory  _humphed_ , taking a long gulp of her drink. It didn't take long for her to speak again; Jason could see the words dying to escape, just tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"So he could be your one chance at true love?" Jason grimaced at her smirk; he hadn't thought Roy would have told her  _everything._  But then again-  _women._  Women and their unparalleled power of finding out things they should necessarily know.  _Ugh._

Jason grumbled, mostly to himself, and contented himself with three things: drinking his cup of tea, ignoring Kory and the sly looks she curve balled his way, and reading Tim's response.

 

 

>  
> 
>  
> 
>   
> _I want to tell you something special. I feel like you deserve it, which is entirely ridiculous, because what exactly have you done for me? You've given me a fun time, that's one thing. And another is that you made me feel like just maybe I had found someone compatible. But then I realised you were a complete ass hole, because you made me fucking_   **skate. SKATE.**
> 
>   
> _I abhor skating with every fibre of my being. Can't do it. I had to_ crawl _along the ice. CRAWL. How does that make you feel, huh? How does that make you feel?!_

It made Jason feel very, very happy, actually. But Tim had told him to take it to the Ice Rink-  _honestly,_  what did he expect? All he could envision was a faceless (and possibly redheaded) guy crawling along the ice, but then the 'face' morphed into the journal and Jason kind of had to stop because that was just a teeny bit creepy.

 

 

>  
> 
>  
> 
>   
> _I bet you're laughing your jackassy ass off right now, aren't you? God, I hate you. I can't believe you made me do that. I expected you to give it to one of the employees,_ not put it half way across the fucking rink.  _Ugh._
> 
> _I take it all back. You don't deserve anything, let alone something special. Screw you, Jason, screw you._
> 
> _But I do need to get this out there: You don't need to be afraid. I'm not judging you about the eye thing (though I shall admit when I received no response within a few days I was growing rather frantic), I don't hold it against you or anything, it hasn't lowered my opinion of you. I think you're great. I think the way both you and Rose seem to have handled it is great. It's respectful, kind of._
> 
> _Which brings me to my next point- you're not injured, are you? I'd hate that to be the case, because then I'd feel terrible over believing -if only for a short while- that you were an eye gauging psychopath._

So Tim had actually believed that to be the case. Huh. Well. To each his own, Jason supposed. But he could explain to Tim the situation, that you know, he wasn't injured or anything like that.

 

 

>  
> 
>  
> 
>   
> _I tried to make myself become your stalker and go check up on you at work, or ask Bart- but the thought of going into the shop, potentially seeing you- it scared me. It really fucking scared me, Jason, and I can't explain it. And it's so fucking stupid because I don't want to be scared of seeing you, I want to spend time with you and I want to invite you around for Christmas dinner and ask you to join in our Eve's traditions, celebrate Boxing and New Year's with you but I just_ can't _because it seems so terrifying because, essentially, you're just a piece of_ paper _and I have no idea what is going on right now, but I think- I think, I think I need to take a nap._

Jason literally had no words for that last paragraph. He kept trying to make sounds, but they came out butchered and choked, his throat constricting slightly. His eyes were beginning to sting. Kory was giving him worried glances.

He knew the feeling all too well, how the realisation of them meeting at any given moment was utterly terrifying and fascinating and mind reeling, nausea inducing, heart racing and bewildering.

He wanted to spend time with Tim, too. Maybe not doing the specifics Tim had expressed, but just- anything, Everything. Getting to know him off paper. In world, in reality. Scared didn't even begin to cover the spectrum of emotions, or the inner turmoil it was causing.

 

 

>  
> 
>  
> 
> _And I said you didn't deserve anything special, but that was a lie, a total lie. This is special. I'm opening my box to you. I'm letting out all of the bad feelings inside, because I'm curious about how you'll respond, if you'll reciprocate these intense and unexplainable feelings. I hope that you do. I really, really hope that you do._
> 
> _Because hope is all I have left. I hope this won't be a disappointment. I hope this will have a happy ending, even if it's not the ending I, or you, desire- I still hope it's good, and happy, because what we have is beautiful. At least, I think it's beautiful- and you know what they say, 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder.'_
> 
> _Hope was the last thing Pandora had, too. The only thing that didn't escape from the box. It was the odd one out; hope was never evil. Hope didn't spread death or disease, wrong or crime, immorality and injustice. Hope is just... hope._
> 
> _And hope is both miraculous and daunting. I don't have an all mighty God or a father-like entity named Zeus to kill me if this curiosity proves too enticing for my being, but I do have a family that want -sans Damian- for me to be happy._
> 
> _I think this curiosity makes me happy._
> 
> _I haven't really fulfilled your request, for which I am sorry, but I felt like this box had to be opened. I had to set my demons free. Since you pretty much set yours free last time, I'm going to ask that you tell me a significant event. Could be the time those plants of yours turned carnivorous and decided to eat one of your cats. Could be a tale about your cats. Like, tell me how many and all their names, what some like and what some don't like. It's up to you._
> 
> _Take a ride on the Ferris wheel when you're done. I'd prefer it if you did it at night, because then you'd get to experience the view of the city lights at night. It's beautiful, Jason, utterly beautiful. And I wished you didn't have to experience it alone, so if you can take someone with you, then please, do. Leave our second born in the carriage- don't worry, you won't get stopped and questioned about it being a bomb. I promise._

Jason didn't mind that at all- didn't even  _care_. He was just glad Tim had responded, was glad he had shared this. This was special, this was personal, and Jason could tell - don't ask him how, or why, he just could - that, well, that Tim hadn't before shared anything like this. He would go alone to the ferris wheel. He would take the journal with him, and only that- because, it was strange, but with the journal Jason didn't feel quite so alone. It was all the company he needed; could imagine it was Tim by his side, actual in life Tim and not just paper Tim.

He was so caught up in the momentary feelings, the euphoria and trepidation, that he didn't notice Kory slide the journal over to her and flip it, beginning to read. When he did notice, he flailed, squealing (though he would later deny that at all costs, vehemently so.) and trying to reclaim it.

She gave it back easily enough, laughing, and taking her cup to the sink. On her way back, she paused just behind Jason- who had blushed a little.

"You have to meet him," Kory said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Jason looked up at her, panic stricken, to see her nodding her head. "I think it will be good. For the both of you, by the sounds of it."

"I can't." Was all he responded with, and Kory's gaze softened impossibly more.

"You can," She encouraged, and it sounded so cliché, but it worked, because Jason did feel a little stronger. She gave his shoulder a squeeze, and put a pen down before him. "Go on, tell him." Jason blinked a couple of times, not moving.

Jason put his pen to the paper of the notebook, hand shaking. He was aware his handwriting came out less legible than usual, but he could find no fucks to give. Because when he saw the words on the paper, when he traced over the ink with his finger, his stomach felt like puking up its contents, and then imploding like a red super giant into a supernova, but he had written them. He couldn't cross them out. It would be wrong to do so.

 

 

>  
> 
>  
> 
> _It's Christmas in five days. I think we should meet. Maybe or maybe not before Christmas, just so long as it's soon._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah so cliff hanger!!
> 
> And I love the tale of Pandora's Box so so much, and yeah, I just want them to meet so bad in my own fic?? wow that's hella sad
> 
> thank you all so so much for sticking with me through this so far!! it means a lot!


	14. Oh The Weather Outside Is Frightful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody stopped him and questioned him about the journal he left behind, as he walked away, his footsteps leaving fresh prints and his scarf pulled up to cover his chin. He wished he had a hat.

Jason went to the Ferris Wheel alone, book in tow. He hadn't wrote any more in it since the sentence Kory had convinced him to input that one line, and it was - for lack of a better word - completely terrifying to ascend those metal steps and get locked inside the rotating cart.

He sat in silence for a few moments as the gears clinked and turned above him, until, finally, he was moving. This was a completely new experience for him.

It was dark, and everywhere had their Christmas decorations lit up. Everywhere. He was fortunate enough to stop at the top of the ride, and he didn't stop writing through out any of it.

He couldn't lie that, when he descended those rickety old steps again, his limbs were shaking, sweat clamming up his clothes. He felt hot. He felt light headed. He felt like he was going to throw up.

Nobody stopped him and questioned him about the journal he left behind, as he walked away, his footsteps leaving fresh prints and his scarf pulled up to cover his chin. He wished he had a hat.

* * *

The light snow that dusted the ground crunched underfoot, Tim's limbs feeling heavy as he almost dragged himself toward the Ferris Wheel. It was early morning, before dawn. He didn't know anyone who worked there. It was almost effortless to lie on paper.

His older brother Dick was walking beside him, the silence thick in the air. They were almost the same height, with Dick just that little bit taller. It was obvious Tim would outgrow him soon enough, however.

"You know," Dick stated as the Wheel came into view, "No one will have a problem with you being gay." Tim looked at him out of the corner of his eye,

"I know."

"Then why aren't you telling anyone?" He sounded distressed, and Tim grimaced.

"It's not that I'm not telling anyone," He began to explain, slowly, gauging Dick's reaction with each word, "It's just that- I don't know. It doesn't seem real, but I know it is. I'm just scared, I guess. I think. Besides," He muttered the last part, "It's not like anybody's asked." Dick  _tsk_ -ed, frowning slightly.

"How can we ask if you're never at home? I know you like being out and about, but come on, we're  _family._ " Tim slowed his walk, staring at Dick in a way that suggested he had spontaneously grown an extra head or other bodily limb. "What?"

"I spend most of my time at home." Tim said, narrowing his eyes. Dick looked confused,

"What?" Dick repeated, brow crinkling. "No you're don't. You're never there." He insisted, and Tim nodded his head.

"I am. I'm always in my room." He was speaking even slower than before.

"What?" Dick's tone had turned incredulous, "What- no way! You can't be! There's never any sound coming from in there, and no light under the door either!"

"That doesn't mean I'm not home! I have earphones, and a bedside lamp, so I don't need to use the main light!" Dick regarded him with hostility, and Tim was torn between erupting into a fit of giggles or crying salted tears of woe.

"Stop it. You're not fooling me. I know you're not at home. Everyone knows when you're at home or not." Tim had to laugh, then, because this was ridiculous. His family hadn't even noticed he was home!

"I swear down, Dick!" It was hard to be believable when he was laughing, but he was being completely honest. "I am literally almost always at home. The only times I'm not are when Steph drags me out and when I'm getting the journal. Which only takes up a couple hours each day, and isn't even every day."

Dick was still regarding him suspiciously, but eventually huffed and dropped his stern demeanour. "Whatever," He blew out more air, "This wouldn't be a problem if you didn't spend so much time in a  _cave_."

Tim's smiled was bemused. If his room was a cave, then it must be a pretty futuristic one, for he was sure ancient caves filled with bats and dampness didn't contain expensive belongings and seemingly random artefacts from all around the globe. Really, imagine a cave like that!

Caves were for cavemen and green dinosaurs, not teenagers and a giant penny with the face of Lincoln engraved upon it - courtesy of a trip to Florida several years back. Tim still doesn't know how he convinced Bruce to pay for the shipping on it.

The snow on the ground was sparse, as though it had weaned and died after an hour or two of falling slowly. He didn't know  _when_  it had snowed, but the sight was welcoming. Tim liked snow, despite not being overly fond of the cold. Snow was  _fun._

"Do you know which cart he left it in?" Dick asked, craning his neck to look up at the structure. Tim shook his head,

"No. But my guess is it's going to be a red one." At Dick's questioning glance, he just shrugged. "Jason really likes the colour red."

"So his name's  _Jason_." Dick teased, attempting to reach over and pich Tim's cheeks- but Tim had seen it coming, and dodged the offending fingers. Dick laughed, and flexed his neck, shoulders, stretching slightly.

"Be careful," Tim worried aloud; he was maybe just a little starting to regret this idea. "Maybe we should-" Dick cut him off with a wave of his hand,

"Realx, dear Timothy. I am a trained acrobatic professional. This is no problem for me." Dick clapped his hands together, wrung them once, before setting off at a light jog. When he neared the bars, he jumped, and just like a natural, grabbed onto the black metal pipe and swung, swung and swung until he was able to let go and jump to the next one.

Jason had left the diary inside one of the Ferris Wheel carriages. Tim now had to retrieve it- well, technically, Dick had to retrieve it. There was no way Tim could do what Dick was doing, you know,  _climbing the fucking structure._

Dick whistled, "I'm so glad the red carriages are pretty high. It's been ages since I've been able to do something like this!"

"You teach acrobatics! No it has not!" Tim called back.

Dick laughed then, and as fluently as a bird taking off for the millionth time in its life span, Dick twisted and weaved through the bars, walking along some, pulling himself up to others, flying to another.

It was a breath taking sight, and such a massive relief when Dick landed, crouched no less, on the frame work of the lowest red carriage. He popped inside, disappeared from view for a second or two, before popping back up.

"Did you say the book was going to be red, too?"

"Yeah!" The structure creaked and cracked in the cold temperature. It was in the minus degrees, easy. "Is it in there?"

"What?" Dick yelled, and Tim had to cup his hands around his mouth in order to be heard.

"Is it in there?" He repeated, to which Dick responded:

"No!"

Tim's chest deflated just a little bit. There were only two more red carriages left, and the closest one was at the very top. Tim was pretty glad it wasn't him doing this, now. Not the biggest fan of heights, was he, especially without the appropriate safety gear. He had no idea how Dick could do it, but then again, if that was how he had been raised- Tim likened it to a language. yes, Dick had the oral tongue of his people, but he also had learned how to communicate through their actions. And, oh, what beautiful actions they were!

Caught up in his thinking, Dick's body had alluded him, and for a moment, Tim was thoroughly panicking- had Dick fallen? Silently, too terrified to scream, his body not making a sound as it fell into foliage and lay, snapped and broken? Oh, oh no. Sodding bollocks, frick, damn, crap, all those words and their vulgar counterparts, oh no.

"Dick?" Tim was definitely panicking, eyes searching frantically. "Oh, shit. No, fuck, God damn it, Dick!  _Dick!"_  How was he going to explain this to Bruce? To Wally, Damian, Cass, Steph- he was doomed. He'd killed his big brother. Off to jail. He was going to be arrested. He had broken several laws. His breath started to come faster, and when he heard the familiar voice, he almost had a heart attack.

"It's not in here either!" Tim shrieked a little, heart thumping wildly and blood rushing around his head like waves crashing against the ocean shore.

" _Dick!_ " He could faintly see Dick's outline, at the very top, his skin ghostly against the black sky. He breathed an extremely weighty sigh of relief.

"What?"

"Don't do that again!" Tim berated, having placed his had on his cheat to futilely attempt to calm his heart beat.

"Do what?"

"That! Disappear!  _I thought you'd fallen and died!_  Don't you dare laugh!" Tim was close to tearing his hair out. It was such a good thing he wasn't a pregnant woman; he was pretty sure none of this would have beneficial for the baby's health.

Dick ignored Tim's plea, and laughed anyway. He crawled out of the cart, and set his sights on the third - and final - carriage. It was a descent of about 25 metres - circular, not vertical. It was pretty much all a blur to Tim's eyes, but soon enough Dick's hand was waving frantically in the air, the book a red haze.

Well, it was a red haze until it began a quickening free fall. Tim kind of watched it in a silence, the kind of one that fell at a funeral, perhaps. He thought it would have been just his luck if it had caught fire. It thumped on the ground, Tim's eyes following it all the way.

Red on white snow. It looked like a Christmas time murder, the words oozing out of the pages like blood. (No words actually oozed out, as the leather binding was going to protect the vast majority of the pages from being wet. Luckily it hadn't landed downward facing a split.)

Surprisingly, Tim couldn't find it in himself to be angry at Dick- it wasn't that the journal wasn't worth it, because believe him, it  _was,_ it was just that, well, at that moment in time it seemed inevitable. It was going to end someday, rather later than sooner, so this premature free fall was to be expected- except next time, it might not be the book falling.

Dick had climbed down from the structure, coming to stand sheepishly beside Tim. Tim threw him a withered glance. "Well done." He quipped sardonically, 

"Oops, sorry." He replied. Tim couldn't help it- he started giggling. "Aren't you going to go and get it?" Dick asked, the amusement in his voice obvious- though Dick wasn't entirely sure why it was there, or even why Tim was laughing. The book was going to be wet.

Tim didn't stop chuckling, but climbed through the bushes and retrieved the journal. He dusted the snow off of it, checked for any more damage and then placed it in his bag. It was too dark and cold to stand and read it now. He came back through the bush, glad for the jacket that protected him from the thorns. Dick was waiting.

"Come on," He requested, beginning to walk away. Tim hurried to catch up. "We have to go late Christmas shopping. I still have no idea what to get Wally."

"There's only four days to go! Why have you left it this long?! I'm not coming." Tim almost shrieked, because he always thought Dick had good planning skills. Apparently not.

"Oh yes you are! I just did something which I'm pretty sure is illegal for you and your boyfriend, the least you can do is go shopping with me! And I have no idea what to get him this year!" Dick stressed, voice almost squealing at the end. Tim sighed,

"He's not my boyfriend!" Tim protested, profusely. "Why don't you go for something practical, like a watch, or-" Tim's air supply was promptly cut off as Dick wrapped his arms around Tim in a crushing embrace.

" _You_  are a  _genius!"_  Dick breathed into his ear, squeezing a little harder before letting him go. "A watch is perfect! He's  _always_  late, and now, now he'll have no excuse!" Dick cackled, and Tim knew he was in for a long ride. "Do you think the Armani shop will be open?" Dick was being sincere. It was 4:48 AM. Tim was definitely in for a long ride.

In some voodoo like shit, after a brisk twelve minute walk to the plaza complex, the Armani shop inside was open. Tim couldn't believe it, not even after he walked into the glass display case in his daze. He's pretty sure he made his forehead bleed when he caught it across the corner, but really, he was too shocked at the fact that the shop was open to care about any blood.

They were greeted politely, and Tim was first to speak as soon as they were left to their own devices. " _No_  colours," He warned, and saw Dick's face promptly fall.

"But red's Wally's favourite," He pouted, and Tim sighed.

"Coloured watches are tacky and people hate them. Go for black or silver- I'd suggest black; looks sleeker, doesn't need to be polished as much, won't show wear when Wally inevitable runs it ragged.

"You can have a little colour on the hands, if you really want- yes, they do red. No red numbers, though. Just the hands, like a little strip. They spice up the display without detracting from the view. Very snazzy." Dick was staring at him, weirdly. "...What?" Tim asked, voice kind of small. Really, the look Dick was giving him was pretty damn weird.

"You are  _so_  gay." Dick whispered, as though it was some big controversial conspiracy.

"Shut up!" Tim grumbled, turning his back to Dick and browsing the displays in furious silence. Dick came up behind him, chuckling slightly under his breath. He placed a comforting hand on the back of Tim's shoulder,

"You know I'm only teasing." He reassured him, before adding a much more sincere comment. "Thank you, seriously. I really didn't know what to get him." Tim blushed a little, shrugging as though it was nothing. Dick didn't buy it, leaning over to try and give Tim a smooch on the cheek. Tim couldn't dodge this like he dodged the pinching fingers, so it left him grimacing and wiping his face as Dick went to select a watch and subsequently pay for it.

The Armani shop wasn't the only one open, but it was the only shop they desired to enter. The others were occupied by various stragglers that Tim and Dick both didn't necessarily want to communicate with, and so they resolved to getting a very early breakfast at the nearest McDonald's, which also harboured free WiFi. Result.

They sat in cushioned seats in the very corner, with two thick shakes - one strawberry and one chocolate - and one Big Mac meal and a McChicken Sandwich meal. They had finished eating a while ago, with Dick taking advantage of the WiFi to peruse the internet on his tablet, and Tim reading the (now dry) journal. Just the very first line had made him choke on a fry he had found at the bottom of the box, all alone and slightly cold.

> _It's Christmas in five days. I think we should meet. Maybe or maybe not before Christmas, just so long as it's soon._

Dick looked up briefly to check Tim wasn't going to choke and die, but otherwise carried on ignoring him, letting him dislodge the chip on his own. Tim shuddered.

He thought they should meet two. Was very glad Jason had proposed it first- he'd have probably died if Tim had been the one to suggest it and then Jason had turned the notion down. He knew it was illogical, because Jason (and he himself) had been dropping hints about their union, so  _of course_  Jason wouldn't have turned him down. He hoped.

He just really, really liked the fact that Jason had voiced - or written, whichever preferred - it first.

>   
> _I'm sat in the carriage as I write this, you know._ _I'm so, so cold Tim. This is my 'significant event' because I think it's pretty darn important. I even turned off my iPod. No Kansas or FOB or Black Eyed Peas to accompany me._   
> 
> 
> _Just me and the creak of this hollow shell swinging on its hinges in the crisp wind. I think It's going to be even colder tonight._

He still didn't know what Jason looked like, but he could envision an (albeit faceless) guy, wrapped up in a jacket and scarf, potentially gloves, writing away in a suspended carriage.

He liked the idea, of this guy sitting hunched or sitting sideways with his back against the wall and knees drawn up to lean on, however Jason had chosen to sit. Maybe he'd gone cross legged.

> _I'm by myself, though. And I'm glad for it, actually. We're about a quarter of the way up- do these things always go so slow? I can't say I've ever actually been on one before._
> 
> _I'd like to travel to London one day and go on the Eye. That would be nice, I think. Not as cold. We could do it together, maybe._

Tim felt his heart lurch in his chest. Yes, it was odd Jason had never been on a Ferris Wheel before (they were like the epitome of faire ground rides!), but just the prospect of going to  _London_  with him - a city just as renowned and Paris, France - and going on the  _Eye!_

It was heart hammering and sweat inducing; he was hyperventilating just thinking about it. Thank Goodness Dick had earphones in and was now completely oblivious, because there was absolutely no way he could worm his way out of this one. 

> _I'm a little scared, actually. This thing is making a lot of creepy noises. You haven't put me on some kind of metal death trap, have you?_
> 
> _I wouldn't be surprised. You seem like the type. Hmmm. It's rocking back and forth. Oh God. I'm going to die. This is my will. I leave you my cats, Timothy, don't you dare let them die. I give you my botanical garden, also. You cannot let them die either, because then you shall be joining me in heaven. Ivy takes the life of those (and every) plant very, very seriously._
> 
> _But you were right. I'm high enough now to see it- it is so, so beautiful. Kind of makes me wish I wasn't alone, but I don't think I'd be able to appreciate the beauty of it properly with somebody else._
> 
> _Maybe I'll bring my niece- that is, if I can convince her father to allow me to have her out so late. She loves pretty lights. Which will also bring me to answering your question- I'm not injured, don't worry. My niece is, she slipped and fell on the ice, brutally bruised herself. I had to alternate between work and babysitting her whilst Roy and Kory worked as well, which is why I didn't get a chance to reply._
> 
> _The beauty of this scene before me akin to the beauty of this journal - I agree, I totally agree with you. I think what we have is great. I want to meet, because I want to transfer this greatness to something physical._

Tim blushed, a crimson shade filling his face. He was  _definitely_  glad that Dick was ignoring him. He knew Jason didn't mean  _that_  type of physicality, but still, Tim thought of it. Tim still got a tad embarrassed.

But he was glad Jason liked the scene. He remembered the time he and Steph and journeyed up there together, a couple years ago now, when Bruce had first allowed him to stay out after dark - provided he wasn't by himself and had his mobile turned on and immediately available, along with informing both him and Alfred of his whereabouts and plans. Those were dark days.

Steph and Tim had had a 'dating trial'. Needless to say, it didn't work out- lasting around seven months before they decided they were way better off being just friends. No harm done, as they were decidedly the best of friends and decidedly both interested in guys. (Those days were also a little bit dark.)

> _We've reached the top, now, and we've stopped. Does that usually happen? I hope that usually happens._
> 
> _Even though I desperately want to meet you, Tim, I think it would be too awkward to outright set a date, time and place. I just want to leave it to chance - chance gave us this conversation, chance can give us our embraces._
> 
> _But chance is so uncoordinated, so unreliable! What if it had been someone else who picked up the journal? What if we've already met, briefly, and just don't put names to faces? How fucking weird would that be, Tim? What if chance makes us never meet?_
> 
> _I like to believe it's fate, and that no matter what, our encounter will happen. I like to believe that. (Even if we do end up setting a date or whatnot.) Ultimately, though, I'm going to leave that up to you. If you want to, then that's fine, I'll happily comply._
> 
>   
> _That's why this is my significant event, Tim, and I know this is_ so _going to sound like I've rehearsed what's being said, but I haven't! (Okay, so maybe like, once or twice, but shhh.)_  
> 
> 
> _I feel like I've opened yet another box. This one a more secretive, heavily guarded one. It's like an ice bath of relief, sinking into my pores. And I kind of like it- I'm just a little terrified that I'm going to die on this COMPLETELY UNSAFE CONTRAPTION before you get to read this._
> 
> _If I do, I'll make sure I write my phone number as my last action so you can at least hear the voice from my voice mail. Now, wouldn't that be romantic?_

Tim snorted. Yes, that would have been oh so romantic. At least he thought of something.

> _It's started to snow. We still haven't moved. I know it's childish, but I just stuck my tongue out and caught a few snow flakes. I love snow so much, I mean when there's snow, the cold doesn't matter._
> 
> _What I really fucking hate is the horrible black sludge afterwards. Ugh. Pisses me off. Snowflakes are falling on the book too, as I write, so if the ink smudges, I'm sorry. Can't be helped._
> 
> _I hope we get a lot of snow. I love building snowmen. I like to sculpt other objects, too- you know like those people on foreign beaches do? God, I love those. I love art. Have I ever told you that? I think it's fantastic, but I'm more of a sculpture than a painter._
> 
> _I'll make you a clay pot- how about that? A literal Pandora's Box that you can touch- it was originally a jug in the tale, right? That's crazy. What kind of person puts a lid on a jug? A box is much more practical. But I'm not very good at boxes- I can do the box just fine, it's the lid I struggle with. Maybe I'm like Pandora. Maybe I'm her reincarnated. I'm improving with them, though! And when I master the art of box making, Pandora's will be first on my list, I promise. Consider this repayment for both the cookies and the new journal._

Tim didn't know Jason could sculpt. That was a nice surprise, but when the realisation that Jason was seriously going to sculpt him something made the blush return at full force and then some. He wondered if he glazed and painted them, too. It would probably be red.

> _Uh oh, we've started our descent. I am genuinely afraid that this carriage is going to fall off and I will hurtle to the ground. I hope my last words will be something witty, if not then this is going to be my last sentence:_
> 
> _Allonsy!_
> 
> _Okay so I haven't started hurtling yet. We seem to be going down at a much faster rate than we went up. Is this normal? Or am I actually beginning to hurtle?_
> 
> _Geronimo!_
> 
> _No I'm still attached. I can tell by the creaking. Is this payback for the ice skating? Because I swear, I didn't know you couldn't skate! But let me ask you this: why ask for it to be left at an ice rink, of all places? Why not, I don't know, somewhere like a park or something._
> 
> _It doesn't do wood!_
> 
> _Okay we're more than half way down now. I guess I should stop writing and prepare for departure. This has been a lovely pseudo-date, Tim. We should do this more often._
> 
> _I look forward to our next, (hopefully in person), date. Good night._
> 
> _PS - drop this in with Bart, if you please. Or, heck, any of my friends. Which ever is most convenient for you._

The writing stopped there, and Tim realised- Jason was a pretty considerate guy. He didn't want to inconvenience Tim if he could help it. Tim smiled, knowing that was something he liked. He'd have to thank Jason for that.

He'd also have to think over the meeting. Did he want to do as Jason said, and leave it to chance? Or did he want to take control of his own destiny, and set them both up? It might take him a while to figure that one out.

"You should get him a gift." Dick was looking at him, having put the tablet away. Tim hadn't noticed, but the sun had almost risen, light sky filtering in through the blinds. McDonald's was filling up with business men and women wanting a quick hash brown or egg and bacon bagel for breakfast.

"I should what?" Tim asked, blinking, coming out of his trance like state. he hadn't fully heard Dick.

"Get Jason a gift!" Dick urged, and Tim blushed again, but this time lighter than before.

"Y-you think?" He stammered, avoiding Dick's gaze.

"Yes!" Dick insisted, hands slamming down on the table. Tim jumped a little. "Come on," He said, standing up and dragging Tim with him. "You helped me pick out a gift for Wally, so I'll help you pick out one for Jason. More shops should be opening now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I took the themes 'Snow' and 'Gift Shopping' from Tumblr's 12 days of Jaytim for this chapter!! I love snow so much and I'm so disappointed we haven't a single bit here yet, we haven't even had frost!! And this is England!! (And Egypt do!! How unfair?? It's those pesky pyramids, I bet)
> 
> Also I need to finish the yjxmas gift so no more updates till I do, sorry :c


	15. Chooser of the Slain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason knew talking to a cat was stupid, idiotic even because hello it was a cat. But that didn’t stop him. He was desperate, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am _so so_ sorry for the such long wait!! Christmas just took over. Also, hello to all you readers, thanks for sticking by!!  
>  Updates are going to be sporadic at best from now on, as home life has gotten extremely hectic. Hopefully things will settle down in a few months time.

Bart was most convenient for Tim, apparently. The snow had fallen a lot heavier that night, and now, as Jason trudged through it in his hiking boots, it was almost up to his ankles. Almost, you know, there were still a couple of inches to go. But it was close!

Jason didn't have to work today. It was Christmas Eve's eve, as Lian's morning text had so merrily dictated, but he was still going into work, though. Bart had text him in the early hours of the morning - it was still unknown how the kid could manage so many all night shifts - declaring that he had a gift for Jason.

That gift could have only been the notebook, from Tim.

It was a relief to step into the warm interior of the Pizza Palace, the smell of freshly baked pizzas wafting through the air and filling Jason's nostrils. It made him hungry, but he wasn't quite hungry for pizza- maybe some chips. He could do with some cheesy chips for breakfast.

"Morning Jay!" Bart chirped, briefly looking up from the dust he was sweeping up into a dustpan.

"Hey," Jason greeted, just as Bart stood up from his crouched position and emptied the pan into the nearest bin.

"Your gift is in the break room," Bart explained, and Jason thought he heard the kid say something else, but he was already gone.

He was also mildly confused when, in the break room, atop the small standardised table in the centre, was a neat little gift wrapped box, with the journal stood on top.

He looked around, even though he knew the room was empty, and trudged forward. Something was making his feet heavy, and he'd be damned if it wasn't something to do with Tim.

_Don't tell me the idiot got me a gift,_  he thought, as he lowered his self onto one end of the (uncomfortable) sofa. He picked the journal up first, decidedly ignoring the attachment. It was easy to find the right page.

> _I hope you're not one of those people that insist on opening presents they get from friends before Christmas day. I think that's wrong. So, please, even if it is against your belief, refrain from opening it._

Jason glanced at the gift again. It wasn't wrapped, and taking the lid off would be easy- as soon as he pulled on the string to undo the bow. But he would adhere to Tim's ruling, should he so wish. That and Jason kind of agreed with him- besides, Christmas was in less than three days. He could definitely wait that long- he might have to box it up larger to restrain his twitching fingers, but hey ho, he could manage.

> _I can't believe you've never been on a Ferris Wheel before! By the sounds of it, though, everything went A-OK. You're supposed to stop at the top. It's to allow other passengers on and off._
> 
> _You won't believe the trouble I had to send my older brother through to retrieve this journal, by the way. You have just been a collaborator to my first illegal activity._
> 
> _I don't think he minded, though. He loves the excitement, the thrill of danger. It sends tingles of ecstasy through him, and shivers of terror through me._

Jason felt chuffed. Look at Tim, doing illegal activities for him. Aww. That was almost as romantic as him offering to write his phone number in blood. Almost.

> _It was his idea to get you a gift; I can't take credit for that. He helped me pick something out, too, because I seriously had no idea with where to start. I hope you like it, and if you don't, well, tough._
> 
> _I don't know why I chose the Ice Rink. It just seemed Christmassy. Not even a word, and I don't care. Look at me, living life on the wild side. You are a bad influence._
> 
>   
> _Also, I think we should meet too. And I kind of want to simultaneously arrange it_ and _leave it to chance. I don't know, I think it would be sort of... magical? If we left it to chance, I mean. Do you understand?_  
> 
> 
>   
> _You have no idea how many times I have imagined seeing your face- despite not knowing what it looks like at all! What_ do _you look like? No one will drop hints._  
> 
> 
> _But every time I do, the scenario in which we meet, it seems... forced. And I just do not wish for that to happen in person. I don't want it to be forced, because I want the moment to be like in those movies - utterly ridiculous, I know - where the girl meets the guy and they have some large reunion after they've ran across some beach and embraced or spun around in the pouring rain._

Jason was pretty sure that constituted as flirting. He was pretty darn sure. And he was also pretty darn sure that he did not mind at all, not one little fudging bit. He also understood Tim's reasoning, and, honestly? He'd be lying if he said the same hadn't happened to him.

> _I am going to completely contradict what I just said, though._
> 
> _Because if we left it purely to chance, then there is a huge percent chance that we will never actually meet. Which kind of sucks. So do you know what I think we should do?_
> 
> _I think we should write down all the places we like to visit, where we will be spending the majority of our time over the next few weeks. Our work schedules, all the important dates. Just in case, should we ever happen to have overlapping schedules in the same area, we can just- look out for one another. Say what shoes you usually wear, what bag you have, type of jacket._
> 
> _We know each other's names. It wouldn't be too embarrassing to go up to someone and say "Jason?" or "Tim?" and then be rebutted, because hey, they're strangers. No harm done._
> 
> _So what do you say? Even if you don't agree, I'm still writing my half down. Just on the off chance that you do. (And I have an inkling that you might.)_

Jason's reading was interrupted when the door swung open, and, thinking it was only Bart, Jason didn't bother to look up and greet. So when the stranger spoke, their voice shredding through Jason's internal monologuing, he physically jumped.

"We're not paying you to be here, you know."

"Holy  _Mo-_  okay," Jason took deep breaths, snapped the journal closed and just glared. Hal stood snickering, utterly pleased with himself. "I hate you."

"And I pay your wages." Hal replied, moving to hang his jacket up. Hal was, surprisingly, Jason's manager. He didn't think he had ever met one as relaxed and laid back before.

Jason groaned, "I know, I know. I thought you booked today off?" He looked at him curiously, whilst Hal just shrugged.

"Changed my mind." He was lying, Jason could tell.

"Uh-huh." He let it slide. Hal made his way back over, almost jumping up to perch on the arm beside Jason.

"What'cha got there, buddy?" Hal inquired, putting on a terribly fake accent, and peering at both the gift and closed journal. "A secret admirer?" He teased, and God damn, if Jason didn't want to strangle Bart right then and there.

"How much of a bonus did you give him?" Jason bluntly asked instead, staring frankly. Hal grinned,

"Almost double. Kid's got a tight lip," Jason rolled his eyes, before shoving Hal off the arm of the chair.

"Ass." He muttered, rising and gathering his items. Had his boss been anyone else, Jason wouldn't dare treat them with such disrespect. But this was Hal. He was like- not family, not a brother or an uncle, well maybe a cousin? Possibly, that was one way to describe their pseudo-relationship.

"Aw, going so soon?" Hal was still on the floor, peering up at him. "Help an old friend up, would you?" Hal extended his arm, and despite knowing that there was every possible chance of Hal yanking him down onto the floor with him, Jason clasped his hand and pulled him up. When they were both standing, and steady, Hal clapped him on the back of the shoulder and brought him in for a half hug, which Jason returned. "Have a good Christmas, Jay,"

"You too, Hal." They nodded in departure, Jason leaving through the front of the store instead of the back. Bart spoke to him as he left, walking him to the front door.

"You and Mr. Jordan have a weird relationship," Bart commented, walking backwards. Jason glared at him out of the corner of his eye,

"You were eavesdropping? Brat." He muttered, reaching out and clawing Bart closer so he could ruffle and nuggy the kid's hair. He didn't let Bart go until the kid's hair was thoroughly ruffed up and the kid was squealing. "Serves you right," He explained, leaving the store as Bart worked on fixing his hair.

Jason didn't do much else for the rest of the day. He read the rest of what Tim had written, surprised that the kid was extremely fond of a pair of converse that were - and Jason quotes - 'once white'; Jason had a sneaking suspicion that Tim was a bit of a Doctor Who fan.

He learnt that Tim was partial to shoulder bags- Jason didn't really have a preference. A bag was a bag. His jacket was a zip up hoodie. Black in colour.

Tim was likely to be seen eating either a sausage roll from Greggs, one of those 99p baguettes or some kind of toasted bagel. Or drinking a smoothie. So now Jason had clues- but  _still_  no physical description!

Well, that didn't particularly bother him. He didn't care what Tim looked like.

When he returned home that afternoon, the first thing he did was place Tim's present for him under the tree. He had gone out and gotten a return gift, as well, and miraculously survived the mass crowds of late gift buyers.

The second thing he did was nestle down in the corner of his sofa, and write his reply to Tim. He agreed with the idea of writing down his schedule, and so told Tim almost every detail for the next month.

He told him he liked wearing a leather jacket. That his favourite trousers were jeans, and he wore biker boots almost all the time. He sometimes wore a cap. He had gloves which were black. He had two different bags - a black and red backpack, and a beige-like shoulder bag.

The third thing Jason did was eat.

And then darkness fell, whilst he was cleaning up his evening meal (which admittedly had been a takeaway, but he still had to clean it up!) That was when he heard the first bang. It startled him - he was  _not_  having a good day in terms of surprises - before he regained his composure, listening as several more bangs followed.

"Are they fireworks?" Jason muttered, turning an eye to the window. "Jesus Christ, they're fireworks. It's not even Christmas." He rolled his eyes, and then it dawned on him. His source of distaste for the explosives. Saoirse.

Saoirse was one of his (many) cats. And Saoirse had a perpetual fear of the things. Jason froze, listening out. He had to make sure the cat was inside the house when the first one went off- if she wasn't, then Jason didn't have a hope of finding her. She could run like a bat out of hell.

"Oh shit, oh shit oh shit." Jason swore repeatedly, beginning a frantic search around the house. "Not good, not good," He chastised himself, checking every cupboard - high and low - every nook and cranny in the place.

"Saoirse!" He tried again, just as Valkyrie -another of the cats- jumped down from atop the fridge. "Hey girl," He murmured to the cat, scratching her chin as she neared. Valkyrie purred contentedly.

"You haven't seen Saoirse anywhere have you?" Jason knew talking to a cat was stupid, idiotic even because  _hello_  it was a  _cat._ But that didn't stop him. He was desperate, after all.

Valkyrie didn't respond. Jason sighed, watching and listening as another explosion lit up the sky. Purple dots shimmered in the sky, falling down gracefully as they lost their shine.

They reminded him on an angel losing its wings, falling from the heaven's above.

He carried on his search around the house, scouting every place in existence that the cat could have hidden in. It didn't look like she was any where in the house.

"Oh, fuck. Christ." Jason let out a rough sigh. It was dark outside, and snowing. There was no way he would find the cat. But he had to try! Grabbing his jacket, he headed out into the cold.

Alley ways were the first he tried, and each one came up empty. It was only 8 PM- just how early did those people want to celebrate?! Yes, it was dark outside, but seriously? Jason was pretty pissed.

He didn't find any sign of the cat outside, having given up after another forty minutes. Instead, he checked on the remaining cats - no more had gone missing, except those that he knew were not bothered by the fireworks and liked to spend the evenings outside - and settled uneasily into watching an episode of  _A Touch of_ _Frost._

Jason's phone bleeped, the LED indicator flashing blue, halfway through the second episode of the evening. He had a new message. Unlocking the screen, he tapped open his inbox and almost squeezed the phone in frustration when he read the contact's name.

_11:58 PM, Kyle Rayner:  
Hey, ass hole._

There was a picture underneath the message, and honestly, Jason felt as though he could cry. It was Saoirse, her green eyes peering inquisitively at the phone's camera lens as Kyle took a  _terrible_  selfie with the cat. The message continued below.

_Is this your cat? Looks like little Seershe. She's at the pound, perfectly safe, if it is. Can't actually check the records until tomorrow morning, but I'm pretty sure she belongs to you._

She did belong to Jason; he'd recognise the cat anywhere. And he was so relieved to find her out of harm's way, even if that meant being in Kyle's way.

Kyle was probably at home now anyway, and he had said the cat was at the pound- so really, absolutely nothing to worry about. Saoirse was fine.

Jason typed a quick reply, thanking Kyle and assuring him that yes, it was indeed his cat, before he decided that he'd had too much drama for the night. He needed sleep.


	16. So We Beat On, Boats Against The Current

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything seemed to be in slowed down, the blood in his body acting like waves and crashing against his skull, fighting the barriers of his skin, pounding every inch available.

Despite knowing Saoirse's whereabouts, sleep came no easier to Jason. It seemed to be some sort of display, for the the fireworks just would not shut up. He had checked and, thankfully, discovered that all of the other cats were safe and inside. Not that they were bothered- Saoirse was the only one who got frightened. Jason wasn't entirely sure why, but she come from the home- anything could have happened to her during her youth, and Jason would never know.

When he did eventually fall asleep, he was surprised that he didn't wake up multiple times. He woke up once or twice, but other than that, was fine.

Morning was a relief. He did a head count on the cats, just to make sure again, and then made himself some toast, buttering the slices and then spreading raspberry jam over them.

He munched in silence, staring at the journal he had left on the kitchen counter. He might as well drop that off after he picked up Saoirse. Dumping his crumb splattered plate in the sink, Jason picked up the journal and shoved it inside his back pack, before sliding on his leather jacket, picking up the empty pet carrier and heading out. He would have to walk to the pound.

The snow must have stopped at some point during the early hours of the morning, as Jason could tell it had been a while since anything fresh had fallen. There were too many footprints, too much ice turning into horrible slush.

Inside the pound was empty, save for a blonde girl manning the counter. As Jason neared he could hear her humming to herself, a song Jason recognised from The Great Gatsby soundtrack - Lana Del Ray, Young and Beautiful - and chewing slightly on a piece of hair. Jason had to clear his throat in order to get her attention.

"Oh, hello," She acknowledged, smiling; and Jason liked her smile, because it was with the eyes and not just with the mouth.

"Hey." Jason smiled back, "Is Kyle working here right now?" The girl blinked, before shaking her head.

"No, sorry. He's not coming in until this afternoon." She looked apologetic, and damn it, now Jason was going to have to fill out God knows how many sheets of paper. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Probably, yeah," Jason explained, "I got a text from him last night saying he had picked up my cat and and brought her here. Saoirse is her name, and I am Jason." The girl's brow furrowed before something seemed to click and she crouched down, digging something out of the cupboard below the counter.

"Aha!" She exclaimed triumphantly, brandishing one of those memo's used in offices. The name of the pound was printed across the top, along with the logo. Jason recognised Kyle's writing spewing the page, as well as both his and Saoirse's names. She looked at the page, "Yeah, seems he did pick up your cat. Hold here for just one moment whilst I check the records and get you your cat." Jason nodded as she disappeared, his fingers beginning to automatically drum against the counter.

There was an electronic beep as the door slid open behind him, and Jason listened as footsteps drew closer. They carried on past him, the owner of said footsteps coming to lean against the counter beside him.

He was vaguely familiar to Jason, and then he remembered where had seen this black haired, blue eyed guy before. The aquarium. "Oh, hey," Jason nodded, noting the bad for the weather type clothing. Tim blinked a couple times, confused, completely forgetting- and then it dawned on him, and he laughed. Jason looked a little confused.

"Don't tell me your niece wants a cat as well?" Tim teased, "Because I somehow doubt that cats and fish would be the greatest of companions." Jason had to laugh in response, understanding where the kid was coming from.

"Oh, no, no. I'm here for me. One of my cats is frightened of fireworks so she ran off, got a call they'd picked her up." Jason explained, and Tim nodded, coming to stand beside him. He was smaller than Jason, the top of his head ending just as Jason's nose was at it's most protruding point.

The blonde haired girl came back in then, with a form and a cat carrier, and Jason noticed her badge for the first time.  _Steph,_  was her name. She put the carrier down, flicked to a page on the clipboard, and asked; "Jason Todd, right?" Jason nodded,

"Yes, that's me." She handed him the form and a pen, having circled all the details he needed to fill out before looking up, smiling when she noticed his companion.

"Hey, Tim." She greeted, grinning.

Jason's pen stopped moving. There was a silence, filled only by the deafening crack of the pen in Jason's hand as his fist crushed it to splinters. He hadn't meant to do it, he had just been extremely shocked, caught very much off guard.

Everything seemed to be in slowed down, the blood in his body acting like waves and crashing against his skull, fighting the barriers of his skin, pounding every inch available.

They were both looking at him, Jason was very aware of that fact, and he was also very aware of the fact that his mind was not the only thing acting in overdrive.

Jason's eyes slid down to Tim's shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deliberately short!  
> Also, school starts tomorrow -.- And i am forever in love with the great gatsby


	17. Are You Feline It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason didn't know what the appropriate action to express his unbound frustration was. He could yell, sigh, huff, punch or kick, and all of them seemed viable at that stage. He was just a little unsure of how to execute them logically- but it turned out he didn't have to.

"Uh... Sir?" It was Stephanie's voice that managed to drag Jason's gaze from Tim's mildly (read: extremely) alarmed face. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, crunching down on his back molars as he did so, and turned to face her. He put down the remains of the pen on the counter and- oh, bloody fantastic, he had ink all over his hands.

Jason didn't know what the appropriate action to express his unbound frustration was. He could yell, sigh, huff, punch or kick, and all of them seemed viable at that stage. He was just a little unsure of how to execute them logically- but it turned out he didn't have to.

Saoirse did it for him, becoming impatient about seeing Jason yet still being locked away, and so she took out her anger with her claws and mouth, by hissing and scratching at the grated bars. Jason's eyes drifted slowly toward her, until he reached a hand out and - simply, casually, trying very had not to let the movement appear stiff - flicked open the lock and followed the cat as she pushed the door open and bounded out, rubbing herself all along Jason's arm, and coming around to his side.

Jason finally found the courage to speak and, clearing his throat, he apologised. "I'm sorry," Jason had to swallow and it was not without great difficulty that he said her name, "Steph, but I broke the pen. My sincere apologies. I was just incredibly alarmed." Oh, he was definitely being stiff and awkward now. Really, Jason? Is that  _seriously_  how Selina taught you to act around men and women? No, I think you'll find, Jason, it is  _not._  Jason turned to Tim, and tried to smile. Tim was still sporting a very frightened face.

"Well," Jason said, and knowing- just  _knowing_  that this was the right guy, the one he'd (so far) had three fateful encounters with, was  _him,_  was Tim, was  _the guy_  he had been communicating with for so long (it wasn't that long) just felt- so incredibly  _right._  And when Jason took a deep breath in, everything just sort of  _clicked._

Jason relaxed, his shoulders and hands unclenching, his teeth resting lightly atop his lower lip, no longer biting down, and his eyes crinkling gently. Tim's body had yet to do the same, but Jason could see the cogs slowly turning in his mind, and with each turn they completed something changed within Tim- and Jason was sure it was a good change.

"These aren't exactly the circumstances I imagined us meeting in- I mean, they're not  _purrfect_  or anything, but..." Jason cracked a grin, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck and trying to look a little sheepish. Tim just stared. He heard Stephanie move in the background, presumably putting the cat carrier to one side. Saoirse had sat down on the counter, tail swishing back and forth in a lulling rhythm.

Nothing was said for a few moments, and Jason felt his grin slipping, until, mouth twitching into an almost maniacal grin, Tim snorted and doubled over in laughter, his hair falling down and blocking his eyes and face from Jason's vision. Jason's grin returned, much more amused than anything. This was definitely the guy he had been longing for; and there was no denying it, now. It had been a longing sensation that had dwelled within him, he could feel it thawing out as Tim stood - well, keeled, technically - before him, far more beautiful and captivating than he could ever have imagined- and to think, this wasn't even the first time they had met!

"Yeah," Tim managed to choke out amidst his laughter, "They're not very  _pawsitive_..." Tim looked up through his hair and lashes, and God damn, did his eyes sparkle. They were so immensely blue, it made Jason's stomach elate, his entire body feel like it was floating, the way they mirrored the adorable smile on his face, were as blue as polished sapphires, way bluer than the ink on Jason's hands-

"Shit," The older teen swore, looking at his hands before craning his head in a desperate attempt to see the back of his neck. Tim straightened up, and swiftly - so fast that Jason didn't see him move, but then again, he  _was_  kind of busy trying to be an owl - reached forth and placed his hand on Jason's shoulder. It was bold move that even Jason had to admit he probably wouldn't have the guts to do.  Slowly, the complete opposite to how Tim had acted, Jason turned his head back around and looked at Tim, eyebrow slightly raised.

Tim was still smiling. "Don't worry," He reassured, "It's not that bad." He was referring to the ink on Jason's neck. So it  _was_  there, after all. Jason rolled his eyes, but otherwise still looked - and quite happily, too - at Tim.

Tim was soon quick to simultaneously drop both his hand and head (and blush an endearingly furious shade of crimson) when Steph's voice woke them from their pseudo-trance.

"Y'all aren't gonna start making out, are you? Because I've seen enough anime to know where this is headed, and let me tell you, I sure as hell am glad your hand wasn't on his cheek, Timothy."

Jason's eyebrows seemed to raise involuntarily, because wow, Tim had not been lying about her personality being a little explosive. Jason looked over his shoulder at the blonde, who had resorted to leaning on the counter with her chin on her hand, grinning, whilst the other unoccupied hand lazily stroked Saoirse's back. An idea sparked inside Jason's mind, and abruptly, he turned so he was facing Steph, hands slamming down on the counter. He was positively glowing.

"Stephanie." He declared, and Steph blinked, completely taken aback.

"Jason." She responded, grin gone from her face and eyes wide.

"Would it be terribly inconvenient for you to keep Saoirse for a couple more hours? You see, something really important has come up..." He trailed off, indicating discreetly with his head toward Tim.

"Oh, it would be no inconvenience at all, Mr. Todd," Steph consented, leaning forward so her words were concealed from Tim's ears. "Now go, take him to Fleet Street." Jason grinned, gave Saoirse a quick rub down on her ears, and then rushed toward Tim's side, taking his hand in his, and almost dragging him out of the pound. Tim's cries and splutters of surprise and indignation fell on deaf ears.

He didn't stop dragging until they were out the door, across the street and making their way down a dirt trodden path- a path that was still covered in snow, not fresh snow, but snow without footprints. Snow snow. They were walking side by side now, hand still in hand.

Tim didn't speak until the trees began to close in around them. "A forest?" He asked, looking up at Jason.

"A snowy forest." Jason expanded, giving Tim's hand a little squeeze.

"I don't think I'm wearing the right shoes for snow." Tim said, a little put off.

"No," Jason agreed, "I don't quite think you are either. I can give you a piggy back, if you'd like." He grinned down at Tim, who regarded him suspiciously.

"No, thank you." Tim said, still measuring Jason up. "Dick says stuff like that," He carried on, grumbling a little, "But he always drops me at inappropriate moments or in the worst possible places." And then: "I almost drowned once because of it, but that didn't stop him. And it made Damian attempt to give me surprise piggy backs when he felt my presence was to be terminated."

Jason actually had no response to that, other than to remember not to a) offer Tim piggy backs any time in the near future, or b) piss of Damian and/or Dick.

"So why are we going to a forest?"

"So we can be alone," Jason answered simply, and then,  _crap_ because Goddamn-

"That's a little creepy." Tim wrinkled his nose, looking at Jason again, but Jason could see the amusement in his eyes.

"I didn't mean it like that!"

" _Surrrrrrrrrrrrrre."_

"Right, that's it." And then, BAM! Tim was squealing, Jason was laughing, fingers were scurrying along flesh and hands were batting, two mouths panting for breath and legs and bodies tussling about, kicking up pure white snow that landed on clothes and faces, until- until limbs were flying, feet were slipping and assess were settling on the cold, snow covered ground.

"You," Tim breathed out, scowling, trying to catch his breath, "You  _monster._ " Jason could only laugh, wrapped his arms around Tim's stomach and pulling him into his chest. He rested his chin on Tim's shoulder as Tim nestled back. They were both still panting slightly.

"I didn't know you were ticklish," Jason said after a while, enjoyment clear in his voice.

"I'm not." Tim denied, and it made Jason laugh again, his chest shaking against Tim's back. "I like it when you laugh." Jason promptly stopped, thinking it over.

"Yeah?" He murmured. Tim nodded. "Well, I like it when you smile. And when you're here. In my arms, not in a forest. I'm not a creeper." He promised, cracking a smile. Tim shook his head.

"Idiot," Tim muttered softly, voice full of fondness.  

"You know with all that stuff you wrote in our journals for me?" Jason whispered, lips right by Tim's ear now. "They should be calling you the next J.R.R. _Tolkitten."_ Jason didn't mind the resultant elbow just above his gut, honestly. He was sat in snow with Tim. He was sat in snow with Tim in his arms. He was sat in snow with Tim in his arms and laughing. He was sat in snow with Tim in his arms and laughing and- and  _happy._ Joyful. Ecstatic. Like Christmas had come early. Which reminded Jason- tomorrow was December 25th.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I meant to be all surprisey (and cute) and post this on Valentines day, but on Thursday I kind of stabbed myself and then passed out twice (my chest is immensely bruised) and so I haven't felt well enough to do much since xD
> 
> but this was so much fun to write today!!! I can't wait to round this off :D (also, sorry about the relative shortness and the kind of cliffy ending, but really, I just wanted the chapter to be fun and I hope I accomplished that)


	18. Plans And Other Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flash of fear scurried across Jason's face, before the older male could conceal it. It kind of made Tim feel bad- but nah, this was payback for the tickle ambush.

"She's going to pounce, isn't she?" Jason asked Tim. Tim didn't need to be told that 'She' was Steph- there wasn't going to be any other female that Jason could possibly be going on about.

"Actually," Tim said, "She won't." He looked at his watch, "Her shift ended about 25 minutes ago, and her bosses aren't kind enough to let her linger."

"Really?" Jason asked, a smile of relief on his face. "That's great!" He quickly back pedalled, however, when he spotted the suspicious look Tim had thrown his way. "Ah, er, I mean, that's too bad, you know, having horrible bosses and uh, everythin-" He was stumbling over his words, and by God, did Tim find that cute. Tim laughed, giving Jason's hand a squeeze.

They were still holding hands; they hadn't stopped since before their tickle "fight" (Tim claims it was an ambush, much to Jason's protests, despite that being essentially what it was and Jason  _knows_  that. But still.) But Tim liked it. He liked the feel of Jason's larger, rougher hands in his own, his fingers threaded through his and his tips resting at his knuckles. He could feel from the texture of Jason's hands that the older teen was covered in scars- but he wasn't quite sure what from. Didn't feel right or comfortable to ask. He guessed it was probably the amount of cats; Tim knew from his own experience that felines could be quite vicious when they just weren't 'feeling up to it'.

But it could also have been from fights. Considering the way Rose had lost her eye... Jason having these scars from their illicit fight club didn't seem entirely irrational. And it made him wonder- did Jason have scars anywhere else? On his chest, his torso? Up his arms, down his legs? Along his thighs, trickling down and across his abdomen... The thought kind of maybe made Tim blush. Heavily. And quite possibly made his hand a little sweatier too. Oh, no. It also kind of maybe absolutely made Jason notice. He, Jason, looked down, seeing just the slightest hint of Tim's beetroot face.

"What are you thinking about?" Jason unknowingly teased, completely not expecting Tim to practically yelp and yank his hand away. "H-hey!" Jason almost yelled but not, just as Tim squeaked a fragile "Nothing!" They looked at each other for a moment, before Tim's shoulders slumped.

"Sorry." He muttered, holding his hand out in front of him. Jason took it, no hesitation, no questions asked. They carried on their path back toward the pound.

It was Kyle working the shift when they walked in, and if Tim felt the way Jason's bones suddenly went more than a little stiff, his hand losing its coldness, he didn't comment. They were both immediately greeted by an un-caged Saoirse, who rubbed herself against both pairs of legs.

"Kyle." Jason called out, stiffly. Tim cast him a sidelong glance, before looking at the man serving, Kyle?  _The_  Kyle? Fight club Kyle? 'Why are you so obsessed with me' Kyle?  _That_  Kyle? Tim didn't know Steph worked with a Kyle. Tim should have known Steph worked with a Kyle. God damn it, Steph.

"Jay," Kyle called back, giving a flippant wave.

"You let her out?" Jason asked, sounding unimpressed as he let Tim's hand go and bent down to pick her up. Tim let his hand fall limp by his side.

"Of course," Kyle responded, flicking through the newest version of the Yellow Pages. Tim didn't know  _much_  about this man, having only heard what Jason had to say about him. Which wasn't too pleasant, actually. "It's not like she would do anything." Kyle finished, not bothering to look up. Jason hummed, giving Saoirse a quick scratch. Tim felt incredibly awkward, in all honesty. What was with the  _tension_  between the two? He wanted to find out, but at the same time- he really did not.

"Here," Jason said, turning toward Tim. Tim looked up, a little caught off guard- and even more caught off guard when Jason thrust Saoirse at him. "Hold her while I do the paperwork." Tim blinked, face puzzled, as the fluffy cat suddenly found its way into his arms. Jason made his way forward, intent on filling out the forms that had been temporarily discarded. There was a new pen waiting for him beside them.

He made his way back shortly later, leading Tim precariously through the exit by his elbow. He was still clutching Saoirse. Just before the door shut behind them, Tim heard Kyle yell: "Hey! You owe us for that pen!" Jason rolled his eyes and then Tim knew- Jason wasn't the type to let it go. He opened the door again, and retorted.

"Yeah? Well  _you_  still owe me a trip to the Sea Life Centre!"

" _That was six years ago!"_

"An elephant never forgets, Kyle!" Jason slammed the door shut, smiling apologetically at Tim. "Sorry about that." Tim could only raise an eyebrow,

"You just called yourself an elephant."

"I- uh," Jason cleared his throat, "Yeah." Tim shook his head, smiling lightly. Saoirse struggled in his arms, trying to break free from his grasp. "Oh, I'll have her-" Jason began, but the cat had already leapt out of Tim's grasp. Jason laughed, more at Tim's panic stricken face than anything. "Don't worry," He assured him, "She won't go far."

And she didn't, only trotting about in a circle before coming to rest by Jason's legs.

"She must really like you," Tim noted, a fond smile now etched on his features.

"Yeah, I like to think she does. Kind of like how I like to think all my cats like me, or how you like me..."

"I like you." Tim agreed, nodding. Saoirse began to purr at her lack of attention, but both boys refused to indulge her. Jason smiled, his lips forming an audio-less 'Good.'

"Can I see you tomorrow?" Jason inquired, still ignoring the growing purrs from Saoirse. Tim shook his head,

"I wish. But family, you know?" Jason nodded his head; he didn't  _know_  per say, but he understood completely.

"The day after?" He tried. Tim pursed his lips,

"I'm a busy man, Todd. I'll have to look in my schedule." A flash of fear scurried across Jason's face, before the older male could conceal it. It kind of made Tim feel bad- but nah, this was payback for the tickle ambush.

"Oh. I, er, see-" Tim couldn't help it, he burst out laughing.

"I'm kidding. Of course I can see you boxing day. I'd love it." Jason grinned, instantaneously, obviously relieved.

"Oh, really? Great, good, that's er- yeah. We should, er," Jason huffed, "We should exchange numbers."

"I think we should, yeah."

Jason was so tempted to do that cheesy High School Musical thing of taking a picture of himself- but he refrained. He wasn't quite sure if Tim would appreciate that.

Saying goodbye was a little awkward. Neither was sure what they should do- hug, kiss, shake hands? Ugh. Tim settled on a wave, lifting his hand up and gingerly moving it back and forth. Jason copied the action, before they both started walking their separate ways-

Which were, apparently, the same way. Tim coughed, feeling more than a little awkward.

"Ah, um, you're going this way, too?" Jason nodded,

"Uh, yeah, my house is like, down there, somewhere..." He motioned with his hand in the general direction that they were walking, and Tim nodded.

"Oh, cool. Mine, too, by the way. Just, you know, somewhere... down... there..." He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck, before giving a little nervous laugh.

They finally went their (real) separate ways a couple of streets down, with Jason carrying on straight and Tim turning the corner so he could wait for the bus that was due any time now.

He could have carried on walking the rest of the way home, but it was kind of cold, and his converse were wet, and really, it would be much faster to get the bus.

Paying the adult fare - Tim could no longer pass as a child, and so had to fork over an extra £1.05 - he was home within ten minutes and walking up the drive.

"I couldn't make her leave." Was all the warning Tim got from Bruce, as soon as he opened the front door.

"Wait, what?"

"Tim!" Steph came cannonballing around the corner then, almost assaulting him in her haste. They collided, as they had done many times in the past, and with a disapproving frown, Bruce made his leave.

"He was pretty cute, don't you think? Oh man, more than pretty cute! Mega cute, right? So where'd you go? Did you get the cat in the end? Did you kiss? Exchange numbers?"

"Exchange numbers with  _who_ , Drake?" Damian glared as he made his way down the stares, stalking just like a predator after his pray.

"His boyfriend~!" Steph chirped, causing Tim to let out a squeal of protest.

"He's not my boyfriend!" Steph gave him a cryptic look.

"It's true!" Tim insisted. Like, they hadn't even  _mentioned_  the word boyfriend. Ever. Or date. He was pretty sure- not that he would object or anything because he totally wouldn't, and he also got the feeling that Jason probably wouldn't either.

Damian  _tsk-_ ed, before following his father into the back room where Tim knew they'd be working out for at least a couple of hours, his voice just floating back to them: "Like  _Drake_  could get a boyfriend."

Tim rolled his eyes, before deciding the best course of action for them would be to sit down and watch a movie.

"Inception?" He asked,

"And then Frozen," Steph agreed,

"Finishing of with Shaun of the Dead-"

"-And Cuban Fury."

Well, that was easy enough. Steph headed into the kitchen with plans to make hot chocolates and popcorn, whilst Tim hunted for the DVD's and some pillows and blankets. By the time he was back, Steph was already in her pyjamas, parading around the kitchen as she finished off the hot chocolates. She handed them to Tim, who walked into the living room and put them down on the coffee table and then snuggled down under one of the blankets.

"So," Steph said, all nonchalant, coming around the table with the bowl of popcorn. Having her spend the night saved him having to go and ring her in the morning to make sure she wasn't late for dinner. " _What_ , exactly, were you thinking when you practically screamed and almost tore the poor kid's arm off?"

Tim's eyes went a little (read: insanely) wide, Steph's grin grew a little (read: insanely) more pronounced, and the popcorn flew a little (read: insanely) fast toward both the ceiling and the floor.

That's when Bruce decided it would be a brilliant idea to pass through the living room. They both froze, and Bruce just looked at them, blinked, before carrying on through, determined to ignore whatever he had just walked in on.

Honestly, Bruce didn't know why he let Steph stay over. She always created a mess- but she always fixed it. At least, she tried. And Bruce couldn't ask for more, especially not from his daughter. Or, at the very least, as close to a daughter as he has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided to end it at 20 chapters! I just think it would be nice to :D  
>  ~~i told jordan there would be smut in this chapter but yolo i lied maybe next time~~
> 
> i also kind of maybe got taken over by Bruce/Steph feels because yeah steph is my fave and i need bruce to be her father i juST NEEED IT.


	19. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No, I didn't." Kory snapped, rounding the corner. She was scowling, but it wasn't at Jason. At least, not entirely. "I told you: 'Jason, don't buy the fish.' and then you said 'Don't tell me what to do, Anders.' and bought the fish." Jason shrugged, a little sheepish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know I said 20 chapters, but I couldn't resist adding this little bit! (And this is set halfway through/at the same time as chapter 19b, sorry if that potentially confuses anyone!)

"Tell me that's not what I think it is." Jason grunted. Roy groaned. "You are the worst uncle ever."

"I am the  _best_  uncle ever."

"No. No you're not. You're the worst. This the worst. I can't believe this. Kory is going to have kittens."

"She won't, I've already asked. She thought it was a fantastic idea. She told me to buy it." Jason explained in a rush, shifting slightly in order to better hold the weight in his arms that was growing increasingly heavier with each passing moment he was forced to stand on the doorstep.

"No, I didn't." Kory snapped, rounding the corner of the still red hallway. She was scowling, but it wasn't at Jason. At least, not entirely. "I told you: 'Jason, don't buy the fish.' and then you said 'Don't tell me what to do, Anders.' and bought the fish." Jason shrugged, a little sheepish.

"Well, you didn't exactly stop me. So where is the little squirt?"

"In the garden, building a snowman. She wanted to wait until you got here to open her presents." Jason nodded,

"I didn't keep her waiting long, did I?" Kory shook her head, smiling a little at his genuine concern over the matter.

"Not at all. Roy, let him through so he can put the fish on the windowsill. I cleared a space." Roy grumbled, but over wise let Jason into the house. Jason was grinning as he transported the marine animal through the living room, placing it gently on the windowsill.

"I even bought you six months worth of food." Jason announced, holding up a little gift wrapped tub, giving it a little shake.

"Great." Roy muttered, rolling his eyes. Jason only laughed and followed them through to the conservatory, where the Christmas tree was standing tall and proud, presents stacked rather neatly beneath it.

"Fake?" Jason hazard a guess, snickering slightly. Roy almost turned green.

"I don't think we'll be having another real one for quite a few years, if I'm honest." He managed to get out, his breathing slightly heavier than before. It took all of Jason's willpower to not laugh out right.

_Honestly Lian,_  he thought,  _you're going to give your daddy a heart attack. That bug phobia of yours is priceless._

Jason could still remember the frantic call he had gotten at 3AM from Roy, desperately trying to calm a wailing Lian who couldn't stand the bugs that were lurking in the tree they'd brought home.

"Ah, well, I suppose that's for the best." Jason conceded, patting Roy on the back as he walked past him to place his present neatly underneath, before proceeding into the garden.

"Uncle Jay!" Lian yelled as soon as she saw him, abandoning all efforts of snowman building in favour of barrelling toward him at full speed, arms stretched out. Jay chuckled, grabbing her and giving her a twirl.

"Merry Christmas, squirt." Jason ruffled her hair, ignoring her squeals. 

"Merry Christmas!" She parroted, shaking her head in an effort to fix her hair. Immediately after, she grabbed Jason's hand and led him back inside, toward the tree. "Present time!" She chirped, letting go of his hand so she could take her boots and coat off. No doubt this was Kory's reinforcement.

They went through the presents one by one, until Lian finally got down to Jason's small tub. She unwrapped it, her little hands greedily tearing at the paper.

"What is it?" Lian asked, turning it over in her hands.

"Fish food," Jason quipped, "for when you get hungry. Guaranteed to turn you into a big, bad shark." It was worth it, to see both the grin that lit up Lian's little face and the mortified one that plastered Roy's.

"Please don't eat that, Lian." Roy wheezed out, wishing again that he hadn't let Jason in this morning. Or ever. Why was he even friends with the guy?!

"But, Uncle Jay-" She began to protest, until Roy cut her off.

"Is a liar. That food is not for you. It's for fish." The little girl pouted,

"But  _daaaaaaad_ ," She whined, "We don't  _have_ a fish!"

"Are you sure about that?" Jason asked. Lian nodded, "Huh. Well, I think you should go check again."

"Why?"

Jason shrugged, "'Cos."

Lian huffed, but otherwise got to her feet and padded through into the living room. The ensuing squeal was almost deafening.

"Nemo!" She called out, and even Roy couldn't deny that as infuriating as his best friend could be, he really did try his earnest to please.

' _Good job,'_  Roy mouthed at him, but Jason only shook his head, before turning to Kory.

"Want me to lay the table?" He asked, already moving to where they kept the fine cutlery.

"If you would be so kind." Kory consented, tying her hair back to begin the cooking.

It had gone on like this every year, without fail, even before Lian had joined them. Jason, Roy and Kory, spending Christmas day with each other, exchanging gifts and finicky little insults as they ate or watched cheesy little Christmas movies on Channel 5.

"I hope you know," Kory murmured absently as she chopped the carrots, stood next to a spoon cleaning Jason, "that if you wish to invite Tim around for dinner at any time, you're more than welcome to."

"I-ah," Jason smiled down at the spoon, a little roughly, "Yeah, I know. Thank you." Kory bumped his hip with hers, playfully.

"Good, now hurry up! Dinner will be cooked by the time you've finished with all those." Jason laughed, quickening his pace a bit.

"Yes, Ma'am!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm actually so sorry that's its been nearly 2 months since i last updated, but in four weeks time my exams will be upon me! and if i don't pass these i wont get into 6th form x(


	20. Paper Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you trying to tell me, that after all these years, only I have been woken up by that dog crushing my lungs?"

**_Received, 06:11AM, Jason:_ **

_Hey, Merry Christmas, Tim._

**_Sent, 06:12AM, Me:_ **

_Merry Christmas to you, too, Jay. Wish you were here._

**_Received, 06:12AM, Jason:_ **

_Wish I was there too, Tim. Tomorrow, right?_

**_Sent, 06:13AM, Me:_ **

_Tomorrow._

Tim looked at the text on his phone once more, smiling as he locked it shut and threw it haphazardly down onto his bed covers. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he could see Jason. He couldn't wait. But first-

There was a snuffling outside his door. Instantly, the smile dropped from Tim's face, and his heart rate seemed to become impossibly loud in his own ears.

The chilling memory of one of many ghostly tales from the night before send shivers up Tim's spine, the very thought of one of those  _beasts_  being outside his door sending him into a clammy reserve.

Of course, he was being irrational. He realised that as soon as there was a slight whine, one that was excruciatingly familiar to him. Tim shut his eyes, groaning.  _Why_   _hadn't he conducted a thorough search for dog treats before going sleep last night?_  He berated himself, knowing full well that the reason he hadn't checked his room for anything last night was because Cass's acute retelling of the paranormal had left him scared absolutely shit-less and he had refused to do anything but hide under his covers until sleep had come and grabbed him by the throat. Why were the quiet always always so damn eerie?

There was another short snuffle, before the sound of something heavy jumping up against his door, and the door handle being pushed down and open. He rued the day Titus had become large enough to reach the door handles.

There was a slight delay in time between the door becoming open, and then it subsequently getting pushed all the way as Titus came barging through.

Tim tried to hide, he really did, despite knowing how futile of an endeavour it was. Of course Titus skidded straight to the bed, jumping up and almost crushing Tim with the weight.

He wheezed slightly, trying to push the big dog off. "Titus," He groaned, " _Off._ " Titus didn't listen, instead moving his nose to search under Tim's pillows. He was left utterly speechless and actually quite angry when the pillow upturned to reveal at least five little dog treats. Just  _how_  had he not felt those in the night? 

Glaring at the mutt, he rolled out of bed, and padded out of his room, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Does that brute  _have_  to wake us up so damn early?" Tim griped, coming down the stairs. Damian  _tsk-_ ed, and Steph fixed him with a glare. Cass didn't say anything, sat in the background and gingerly sipping at some tea.

"Oh, please." Steph accused, "When have you ever slept past this time? Besides, Cass and I both heard you tip-tapping away at your phone like, half an hour ago."

Tim froze and spluttered, a red blush creeping up his neck. "Y-you did?" Both girls nodded, to his mortification.

"So how  _is_  your boyfriend this Christmas morning?"

"He's- we're not dating," Tim muttered, sounding like he wished the opposite of that was true.

"I'm pretty sure you're dating," Steph practically sing-songed, "Are you seeing him today?"

"No," Bruce stated, in lieu of Tim's answer. He had just walked down the stairs, with impeccable timing, as per usual. "No talk of boyfriend's this morning or this afternoon or today. This day is family day, with the exception of Steph."

"Hey!" The blonde's protests went ignored by practically everyone. "I'm family," She grumbled, then let the subject drop. Not worth the argument, especially not on Christmas day.

Tim noticed they were missing somebody. "Where's Dick? He hasn't forgotten it's Christmas, has he?" That wouldn't surprise Tim, to be perfectly honest. 

Bruce cast a glance around, searching for his eldest. "Sleeping still, probably. Someone go wake up," He headed into the kitchen after that, presumably to make everybody scrambled egg on toast. Another tradition, and about the only breakfast meal Bruce could cook to perfection.

Damian took the task of waking Dick up upon himself.

"Titus," Damian called, seemingly satisfied when the dog lumbered straight toward him, "Go wake up Dick." Titus barked, before revitalising some energy and bounding off up the stairs.

"Hasn't Titus already been and woken him up already?" Tim asked, finally taking a seat beside Steph, who looked at him with mild confusion. Damian had an air of smugness about him, and Cass seemed amused.

"Why would Titus have done that? He's a dog," Steph asked, ruffling Tim's hair as though he were a toddler coming to some ludicrous realisation.

"Because that's what he does- every year..." Tim trailed off as his eyes narrowed, specifically at Damian.

"Are you trying to tell me," He almost growled, "that after all these years, only I have been woken up by that dog crushing my lungs?"

"Yes," It was Cass who replied, and Tim swivelled his head to look at her, a little appalled. He failed at words to say to her, though, and could only resume glaring when he heard Damian scoff.

"Thanks for telling him, Cain. I was positive I could have kept that going for at least another two years, had you let me explain." Out of the corner of his eye, Tim saw Cass shrug, apparently bored now.

Dick was down the stairs soon after, Titus in tow, scratching his hair and yawning his head off. "Morning folks," He cracked a smile, far too chipper for someone who had just dragged himself out of bed- or gotten dragged out of bed. "Is that coffee I smell?" It wasn't, because making coffee was Dick's job, since he drank the majority of it.

(Tim was also sure, that it was a reference to Bear in the Big Blue House, since he had more than once heard the older male humming the theme. Still, smelling imaginary coffee was better than Dick smelling people, or worse- smelling people  _and_  eating them.)

Nevertheless, Dick headed off into the kitchen, and Tim heard the electric hum of the coffee machine starting up. His head popped back into the room shortly after as he asked, "Anybody else want some?" He was met only by the shaking of heads.

Soon enough, it was time to open presents. The whole family eventually assembled in the living room, the remnants of their breakfast piled up in the sink. Someone really  _should_  load the dishwasher, but that could wait until after dessert. Or tomorrow morning. Really, they needed Alfred again.

The whole ceremony was a little bland- they said their thanks, gushed over presents, and on a few occasions, tackled each other to the ground in a playful bout of mischief. Until, well, Damian extended a wrapped gift in Tim's general direction.

"You... you actually got me something?" Tim regarded the package in Damian's hands with slight hostility and disbelief. He knew the rest of the room had gone conveniently quiet, and it was no damn convenience  that Damian had waited this long to present it to Tim, instead of just shoving it under the tree like he had done with everybody else's.

"Well if you don't  _want_  it," Damian snapped, preparing to take it back. Tim's eyebrows raised, and he reached forward to put a hand on the present.

"I- er, ah, I didn't mean it like that. I was just surprised. Thank you." He took the present, placing it in his lap as he turned it over to look for the sellotape. "Wait," He paused, looking suspiciously at Damian.

" _What?_ " Damian almost snarled, trying - and failing, mind you - to hold back a glare.

"I don't already own this, do I?"

"- _Tt_. Just open the present, Drake." Damian crossed his arms over his chest and sat back, watching as Tim sighed, before his hands moved to open the present.

As soon as the wrapper was off, he knew Damian ever getting him a gift was too good to be true. His face heated up, and he spluttered slightly, just as the rest of the paper fell to the floor.

Dick and Steph snorted. Damian smirked. Two people sighed.

"Oh my  _god,_ " Tim choked out, letting the gift fall from his hands as though it had inflicted third degree burns. The present landed face down, and Tim hastily toed it away. He was  _not_  picking that back up.

'That' was- well, there were certain toys Timothy Drake was too old for. Like the figurines given in Happy Meals, and Happy Meals in general, for instance. Likewise, there were also toys he was too  _young_  for. Like the one Damian had bestowed upon him. _  
_

"Why would you buy me that?" Tim groaned, willing the mortification to pass. Furthermore, how would Damian even procure such a gift?!

"I wanted you to be prepared."

Tim mouthed a silent ' _what?_ ' before throwing his hands up and exclaiming, "You wanted to embarrass me!"

Damian's smirk grew- if that was even possible. "That, too."

" _Boys,_ " Bruce's tone, holding only just an inch of berate, sounded very much like a man who had given up all hope of his children becoming civil. 

When everyone else had finished unwrapping their gifts, shoving all of the used paper inside a pile that would later be shifted toward the recycling bin, Bruce shuffled toward the kitchen, announcing it was approaching mid-day and about time they got dinner started. Titus barked, and almost everyone cringed.

This was another 'tradition', that he had neglected to share with Jason because- well, Tim supposed because it was personal? It wasn't exactly personal, but, it was special. To their family. To Christmas.

Titus's bark was cue for everyone to leave the room, because if they didn't, there was a chance they'd be knocked out. Not from any harm that Titus might do, because Damian was a lot of things but he was not someone who trained his dog to be vicious without explicit command. Oh, no, anyone left in that room would pass out from laughing.

By 'shifted toward the recycling bin', what Bruce had actually done was put the pile about 10 feet away from anything breakable (or knock-over- able, as the case may be), because Titus had this habit.

This habit of charging into the pile and, well, ripping it shreds. He positively adored this part of Christmas, possibly even more than the part where he got the leftovers.

Tim was the last out of the room, and as he shut the door behind him, he could just see Titus's back end rise as his tail wagged, preparing to pounce. It was an amusing feat to watch, as they had found out on the mutt's first Christmas with them. Too amusing, to be honest, which was why they cleared the room.

They'd all contribute to the clean up later.

* * *

With the vegetables boiling away on top of the stove and the turkey and potatoes roasting away inside the oven, the family finally began setting up the dining room table. 

Seven places were laid out in total, seven empty glasses sitting around. Tim paused as he was about to put the final knife down, wiping a slow finger across the golden, decorative plate. They didn't eat off the gold ones; instead, putting another, white one on top, filled with their steaming food.

Steph looked up from where she was putting down the crackers, a soft smile playing at her lips as she observed. "Hey," She whispered softly, and it took a moment, but Tim's eyes finally gazed at her. "Don't worry," she continued, "We miss him too, we're not going to forget him so easily."

Tim nodded, trying his best to mirror her smile. He knew that.

* * *

After Cass' prayer, a short and common yet graceful Bénédicité, Bruce led the toast. "And here's to another year gone by," He raised his glass, the cream-like contents swirling as it was hoisted, his eyes looking around the table, at his family, at the vacant seat at the head of table, smiling. "Merry Christmas."

The rest echoed the sentiment in cries, glasses clinking all around, only to be disrupted by the cracker Steph and Damian decided to pull. Before long, everyone was sporting paper crowns and laughing at the terrible jokes within, knives and forks scraping gently against the plates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I have a rottweiler (who is actually taller than me on two legs) and i honestly hate the fact she can open doors it is honestly terrifying to go downstairs in the middle of the night and hear Zelda trying to open the back door (our dogs live outside)
> 
> Only one chapter left!! (this feels bad was this bad i hope it wasn't bad)


	21. Driver Picks the Music, Shotgun Shuts His Cake Hole.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “In a field, I am the absence of field. In a crowd, I am the absence of crowd. In a dream, I am the absence of dream. But I don't want to live as an absence. I move to keep things whole. Because sometimes I feel drunk on positivity. Sometimes I feel amazement at the tangle of words and lives, and I want to be a part of that tangle. "Game over," you say, and I don't know which I take more exception to- the fact that you say that it's over, or the fact that you say it's a game. It's only over when one of us keeps the notebook for good. It's only a game if there is an absence of meaning. And we've already gone too far for that.”

Tim and Jason went on several dates between Boxing Day and New Year's Eve. Like, several several dates. Some of them even included  _touching_ \- always PG rated, of course. Besides, it was mostly shoving and elbowing, anyway, with the occasional brush of fingers as they thought about holding hands, but ultimately kept that thought to themselves.

Which was a shame, really, because they were both itching for it to happen.

Jason met Bruce. Jason met Damian. Jason met Dick. Jason had already met Steph and Cass, so no introduction between those was necessary. Things... started off edgy, to say the least. But Tim was genuinely impressed with how Jason managed to turn the situation around, and though he might still not have Damian's approval, and Bruce is still on the fence (and probably always will be, if Tim is honest), Jason has completely won Dick over.

("You helped Tim pick out my present? No way, it was incredible!"

"You liked it? I can't take too much credit, of course, it really was mostly Tim- but I'm glad my input helped."

"Well, regardless, I owe you both a huge thanks, c'mere!")

Despite still being in two minds about Jason, Bruce was kind enough to let him take Tim out for the night on New Year's Eve. Tim is under the impression that it was the fact Jason showed up in a car to pick him up, rather than his motorcycle. Road safety goes a long way in Bruce's book.

Stood in the driveway, Tim observed Jason and the ride he had travelled in.

"Is this even your car?" He asked, because he honestly didn't remember Jason ever mentioning he had a car.

"Yes." Tim raised his eyebrows at Jason, until the older teen finally relented. "Okay, fine, it's Roy's. But he totally knows I have it- at least, he will as soon as he finds the note." Jason chuckled at his joke, but Tim just looked on, warily so. Jason rolled his eyes, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I sent him a text." Tim carried on looking, before giving a disinterested sigh and climbing in. But Jason saw his lips smirk. He saw that smile, and returned it graciously with a grin as he got behind the wheel.

He turned the key in the ignition, and soon they were rumbling down the road.

The interior of the car was warm and relaxing to Tim, the seats a faux-leather that were as comfortable as they looked. Which, surprisingly, was a lot. Kind of like the old couches that were as scruffy as hell, but comfier than what floating on a cloud is imagined to be like.

The drive was silent for a while, before Jason could take it no more.

"Alright," Jason shimmied something out of his pocket and blindly shoved it at Tim. "Plug this in, double tap the home button and press play, pretty please."

Tim gave Jason a scathing look, before untangling the headphone mess and plugging the iPod in to the jack and doing as he was told. He glanced at quickly as the music began to play, ('Oh, mama, I'm in fear for my life from the long arm of the law') before doing a double take.

"Is that Dean Winchester?"

"Huh?" Jason took a quick glance down at the ipod, "Oh, ye-"

"Wait, is this an 8tracks [playlist](http://8tracks.com/expectopatronum5/driver-picks-the-music-shotgun-shuts-his-cakehole)?" Tim squinted at the small screen, leaning down,

"Hey, wait, don't do tha-"

"Oh my god, this  _is_  an 8tracks playlist. We're listening to Classic Rock on an 8tracks playlist. Specifically a  _Dean Winchester_  Classic Rock playlist. Oh my God," Tim snorted a little, before covering his mouth quickly, hiding the grin, "I'm dating a fanboy."

Jason rolled his eyes, "Yes, yes, laugh all you want- wait, dating? Did you just say that we're dating?"

Tim froze, the blood in his face knocked for a loop as it deliberated between draining and flushing brighter than a fire engine.

"Are we-" He cleared his throat, face definitely heating up a little bit now. Had he misinterpreted this whole shin dig? "Are we not dating?" Tim had to admit, it really hurt to say those words. Like something was splintering deep into his chest, a bacterial infection brought on by a dirty needle.

"Oh, no, we're definitely dating. I wouldn't be driving you around right now if we weren't dating, it was just nice to hear you say we were dating."

"Ah, right. Well. It... was nice to say we were dating, I guess." Correction: It was  _extremely_  nice to say they were dating. Tim drew immediate satisfaction from the fact.

"Only 'nice'? Jesus, Tim, you wound me." Tim rolled his eyes at the fake hurt in Jason's voice, but he couldn't stop the smile from spreading. "You know," Jason carried on, striking a conversation as his left hand left the steering wheel in order to change gear, "If I weren't driving, I'd kiss you senseless."

Tim struggled to swallow, just a little bit. Had Jason turned the heater up? "I'm, er, I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be the one saying that."

"No?" Tim shook his head,

"Nope. Pretty sure that's my line." Jason whistled, low and sharp.

"Well, damn. That's my favourite quote."

"Really." Tim dead panned, and Jason rewarded him with a quick glance.

"No." Jason mumbled, and then paused, as if thinking over what he was going to say next. Deliberating. "'I find I very rarely live up to my words. And since you know me primarily through my words, there are oh so many ways I can disappoint.'"

Tim was quiet for a moment, before noting: "I can't say I've heard that one."

Jason gave him a fleeting smile, "One of my personal favourites. And very relevant, I think." Tim  _hmm'd_ in agreement. Relevant, indeed;

For all the dates they had gone on, the late night and early text messages they had exchanged, Jason was right. Tim  _did_  only know him through his words, through the inked flicks and italics in the red notebooks.

But Jason was wrong; because even though their time in physicality with each other had been short, it had not been disappointing. Far from it, in fact, and looking at Jason whilst he drove, with the sun setting just behind his face, the window wound down, giving him an oh so cliché heaven's glow, and ' _I don't know where I'm going / Only God knows where I've been'_ playing in the background, Tim honestly didn't know how Jason could believe that.

"Hey, Jay," Tim said, a little harsher than he intended, tongue darting out and licking his bottom lip with impossible speed. "Pull over."

Jason glanced at him, eyebrow slanted, confused. "Pull over," Tim repeated, slightly urged, and beginning to unbuckle his seat belt.

"All right, all right," Jason consented, unsettled, -  _shit did I say something wrong oh God I probably said something wrong_  - flicking the indicator and rolling the car to a gentle stop, "What's wrong?" He asked, turning in his seat to look at Tim.

Tim who was facing Jason completely, one hand on the back of the seat and the other on the dashboard, and looking more than determined. If Jason was confused before, he was now completely baffled.

"You're not driving any more." Tim pointed out slowly, knuckles gripping the surfaces that little bit tighter. Jason nodded,

"Yeah," He agreed, a little sceptical. "Tim, what," But Jason cut himself off, because  _he wasn't driving  any more._  "Oh. Oh!" What (evidently little) restraint Tim had was utterly shattered by that moment, by the way Jason's face lit up with the realisation.

His hands released the chair and dashboard, respectively, from their death grips and he surged forward, leaning over the console as his hands clutched at Jason's hair. If it wasn't for the gear stick, Tim was sure Jason would have him in his lap by now.

It was messy; their teeth clinked together more than once, though neither of them cared. It just felt  _so good_ , the warm skin beneath both pairs of hands a comforting and much anticipated touch.

"You know," Jason chuckled, his fingers tracing faint circles on Tim's lower back, his breath warm and moist against Tim's cheek, in his mouth, "We're gonna miss the display, if we continue on like this."

Tim knew, not that he precisely gave a damn at that moment in time, but still.

"That's a shame," Tim murmured back, bringing Jason to him once more.

"I mean it," Jason warned, no malice present, and more than willing to forego the show. But he had plans. And they were good plans! (Admittedly, not better than an impromptu make out session with Tim, but still, he had put  _effort_  into them.) "We can kiss later." He added, and with a reluctant sigh, Tim broke apart, slumping back down into the passenger seat.

He pouted, and then on a childish whim, stuck his tongue out at Jason. "This had better be good, Todd," He announced, because if he was willingly removing himself from Jason's face, yeah, it had better be good.

"I promise," Jason said, whole heartedly and putting the car back into drive.

Somewhere along the way, their hands became entwined. Neither of them commented; neither of them had to.

* * *

 

The place they pulled into was an empty, dusty road. There were a few more cars parked by, but Jason drove straight past them, heading onwards, towards what looked like a cliff's edge.

"Don't worry," Jason reassured him, "There's no water below, just mountains and mole hills and the odd bush. Maybe a rattle snake or two." He winked, and Tim resisted the urge to swat him. The sun had fully set now, a dusky twilight highlighting the skyline.

And oh, what a beautiful skyline. Before the engine had even rumbled to a complete stop, Tim had opened the door and was stood, leaning over the frame as he looked out at the scene before him.

Buildings were lining up in blocks, a-symmetrical shapes and patterns created solely by their internal and external lights. He didn't hear Jason get out the car, but soon enough he was being pulled away from the door and that was being shut, whilst he was being pulled back into Jason's chest. Arms found their way around his waist, and it was like that day in the snow, the day that felt oh so long ago now, so familiar and comfortable.

"If you think it's beautiful now," Jason whispered, placing a short kiss on Tim's temple, "Wait until the fireworks start." Tim craned his neck to look at Jason, caught a glimpse of a ghostly smile, before the older male was pulling away, taking Tim by the hand and walking back towards the car.

He let go of Tim's hand, then, and jumped atop the roof of the car and scooting, so his feet and body were facing the bonnet, the skyline. He patted the space beside him with an encouraging smile, one that Tim met with a slight eyebrow rise but no other qualms.

"Is Roy going to mind us sitting on the roof of his car?" Jason shrugged, just as Tim hoisted himself up beside him.

"Probably," He finally answered, "But it's not like he's going to check. Plus, he'd notice the scuff marks if we sat on the bonnet."

"We could always open up the boot, sit in there..." Tim trailed off as he noticed Jason was giving him a look typically reserved for the crazies lurking in the town's prison house.

"And have the damn thing close on us? Trap us in, chop our legs off?" Jason shook his head, "Nuh-huh. No way; not again."

"What?"

"Nothing," Jason said quickly, a little  _too_  quickly if Tim thought about it, but whatever. This night was going so  _good._  He wasn't going to ruin it by bringing up the time Jason may or may not have possibly gotten his legs trapped in a car boot. Or witnessed someone getting their legs trapped in a car boot. It sounded like a mood ruin-er, and their mood was oh so magnificent to feel.

They sat, shoulder to shoulder, just watching the city below. They didn't say much, because sometimes, just sometimes, silence is more powerful than words.

Time ticked by around them, invisible clocks drawing inevitably closer to the big 00:00;

"Hey, Tim," Jason whispered, 

"Yeah?"

And then he smiled, and Tim smiled back, and they were leaning closer with eyes fluttered shut, and Jason could faintly hear fireworks in the distance as people started celebrating, a whole ten seconds too early - he was absolutely not counting down in his head, no way - and it was tentative at first, questioning, the brush of lips against lips, a complete opposite to the kiss Tim had initiated earlier.

But then Jason got bolder, or greedy, really, they were both the same, and he pressed closer, a hand coming up to rest on Tim's cheek as he worked his tongue inside, eliciting a low moan from the other male.

They only pulled apart when the fireworks were in full swing, the sound almost deafening as their faces were illuminated by the showers in the dark. Their foreheads stayed connected, resting against each other.

"Happy New Year," Tim murmured, blue eyes open now, staring into Jason's.

"Yeah, Happy New Year. Let's start this year off with a bang, eh?" Tim's shoulders dropped a little as he laughed, his breath floating over Jason's face, and soon they were both giggling helplessly.

"God, I hate you. I really hate you." But Tim was smiling, and they both knew that if Tim meant anything by that statement, it was the exact opposite.

"You know, I really wish I had a camera."

"You have a mobile." Jason was already shaking his head before Tim had finished speaking, the tip of his nose just skimming Tim's. He had closed his eyes again.

"'S'not the same. I want a polaroid."

"That's so cheesy."

"Don't care, I want to write on the back of it."

"Oh yeah?" 

"Mmhmm."

"And what do you want to write on the back of it?" Tim didn't know why they were whispering; it was probably to do with the atmosphere, like how when you're in the waiting room at the doctor's or the dentist's surgery, it feels like an abomination to do anything but.

There was a beat as Tim waited for Jason to answer, and then: "Timothy Jackson Drake, 194/10/1, 19/7/10, 146/13/3."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for now, this is good bye. (maybe an epilogue, but maybe not idk how that would work with this)
> 
> thank you alll so so much for sticking with this, and I really hope the ending didn't disappoint! again thank you all so much, it's been incredible hearing all your positive responses to this :3
> 
> hopefully i'll see you all again with my next three(!!) works, 'The Book Cave', '(☞ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞' and 'Birds of a Feather Flock Together'!
> 
> (and that playlist I mentioned? my absolute favourite)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Phantom Journal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4545900) by [Mistwolf_Magic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistwolf_Magic/pseuds/Mistwolf_Magic)
  * [And I ask you, friend, what's a fella to do // 'Cause his hair was black and his eyes were blue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5689480) by [cruciomysoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruciomysoul/pseuds/cruciomysoul)




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